


Been There, Blown That Up

by GwendolynStacy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Nebula (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Miscommunication, POV Outsider, Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, in this fic we love and cherish all marvel characters, not the angsty kind tho, so much miscommunication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-27 20:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynStacy/pseuds/GwendolynStacy
Summary: After Loki’s defeat and his fall from the portal, Tony starts preaching about a murderous purple titan out to get them in the depths of space.Wait. What?On the other side of the universe, Nebula loses her cool approximately two seconds after laying eyes on Thanos and finds herself on a wild chase through the galaxy. Now, where exactly was that pathetic piece of rock Terra again?





	1. Chapter 1

“We won.” 

 

Steve breathed out a sigh of relief, shedding the tension of an excruciatingly long day. When he’d first woken up in this strange future – in between the moments he had spent in denial and later, mourning – he had imagined flying cars, the cure for all illnesses and, of course, the end of the war. No more fighting. 

 

Instead there’d been aliens, portals to other worlds and a fight far more bizarre than anything Steve could have imagined.

 

And now Loki was beaten, the portal closed and Tony was alive. The battle was won. He let the tension bleed out of him, allowing the post-battle euphoria to drown out the pain and fatigue dragging at his body. They all deserved some rest, after what they’d just been through.

 

That was, of course, when Tony jolted forward with a gasp, eyes incredibly wide and muscles tense enough to snap. At once Steve was at his side, Thor not far behind. 

  
“Tony! Tony, what’s wrong?!”

 

Tony didn’t answer and continued to gasp for air. His eyes twitched around aimlessly, not focusing on either of them. Was he having a seizure? 

 

Steve should have checked him over earlier. He’d fallen from the sky, of course he wasn’t alright. 

 

“Tony,” Thor said, “Speak to us.”

 

Steve kept his hand on Tony’s shoulder as he slowly calmed down. His eyes flickered to Thor, over to Hulk – looming over them to watch – and finally to Steve. 

 

Tony’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing without a word coming out. Steve was slightly disturbed at seeing him speechless. Tony  _ always _ had something to say, whether it was socially appropriate or not. Steve leaned closer, anticipation growing as Tony struggled to speak, trying to form a sentence, trying to tell them–

 

“Where  _ the fuck  _ is your beard?”

 

… What?

 

Steve shared a glance with Clint, who shrugged. He had to have misheard. “What was that?”

 

But Tony had already directed his attention to Thor. He reached out to… touch his hair? What was he doing? Thor let it happen with a bemused glance. “s’nice, you should keep it like this.” Tony’s head turn upwards. “Hulk. Buddy. Pal. Nice to see you.”

 

The slur in his voice didn’t make Steve feel better. He leaned closer to Clint. “A concussion, maybe?”

 

“He fell out of the sky,” Clint gave back. “Maybe Hulk wasn't as gentle as he should have been. No offense, big guy,” he hurriedly added as Hulk gave a warning growl.

 

“You do not look well, my friend.” Thor’s concern shimmered through his kind smile. “We shall bring you to a healer and celebrate our victory to our hearts’ content!”

 

“How’d you grow it so fast?” Tony asked, for some reason unwilling to let the topic of Thor’s hairdo go. What was it with him and his sudden obsession with hair? “Wait, no. You said– Oh.” 

 

Steve blinked in surprise as all of the emotion on Tony’s face – confusion, mostly – shut down in the blink of an eye. 

 

“Tony? Look, we should bring you to the tower and–”

 

“Right. The tower. That means…” Tony muttered something under his breath, and Steve was just about to offer him a hand when he heaved himself up in his barely functional suit.

 

Steve wasn’t surprised when Tony’s steps turned out awkward and bulky – the suit had gone through an hours long battle, a trip to space and a free fall out of the sky. For some reason however, Tony was.

 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , how much does this thing weight?!” He scowled down at it like it had personally offended his family. 

 

“Don’t worry,” Steve said, going for a reassuring tone. “I’m sure you can fix it later.”   
  


“Like hell I will. This thing isn’t worth the scrap metal it’s made of.”

 

“Tony,” Clint chimed in, his voice carefully neutral. “Are you alright?” From the many things Tony was proud of, his suits had to be at the very top of the list. And now they were “scrap metal”?

 

“Sure. Never been better.” Tony proceeded to peel himself out of his armor with an energy Steve couldn’t explain. He’d nearly died only minutes ago. Steve was starting to get genuinely worried at how  _ off  _ Tony sounded.

 

“Where are we going?” Thor asked, falling into step with Tony as he made his way through the rubble that was left of the attack. The hand that wasn’t holding Mjolnir hovered close to Tony in fake casualness, ready to catch him, should he fall.

 

Tony’s answer – amazingly– gave them no explanation whatsoever. “You know, places to be, things to do. Try to keep up.”

 

They let the matter drop as soon as it got clear that they were heading towards the tower. Whatever was wrong with Tony, they’d be best equipped to help him there, rather than in the middle of the battlefield.

 

And they  _ would _ help him. They wouldn’t stop being a team, now that the threat was beaten. 

 

Somewhere along the way, Hulk shrunk back into Bruce. “Erm. What did I miss?”

 

* * *

 

Tony’s behavior didn’t make any more sense once they’d reached the tower. Steve was momentarily distracted by a voice greeting them from the ceiling, but instead of making fun of him for his reaction, like he almost expected him to do, Tony looked just as taken aback.

 

“Good afternoon, Sir.” Both Steve and Tony flinched, and Bruce looked up to look for the source of the voice. “The assailant remains on the top floor of Stark Tower. He has not moved since Dr. Banner forcibly impressed him into the concrete.”

 

“Right,” Bruce said, visibly uncomfortable at the reminder of his alter ego. He fidgeted, trying to disappear in the too big, worn-down clothes they had managed to pick up on their way. “That’s… Alright.”

 

“Tony?” Steve asked when no explanation followed.

 

“... Yeah. Right. That’s JARVIS.” Tony’s voice was oddly subdued, almost hoarse. “He’s an AI. Artificial Intelligence. Runs the building, you can ask him anything.”

 

“It is an utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance, JARVIS,” Thor said, taking the situation in a stride. 

 

“Likewise, Mr. Odinson.” Tony continued to stare blankly ahead, and before Steve could say anything, JARVIS added: “Sir, are you well?” If he was a machine like Tony had said, how could he sound so concerned? It was almost like listening to a real person. “I detect an accelerated heartbeat and signs of–”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony interrupted. “All well. Let’s go see what our maniac is up to.”

 

Steve shared another glance with the others. Unfortunately, Tony was right. Loki was still a priority, even though he was supposedly beaten.

 

Except once they reached the top floor of the tower, Tony barely spared Loki a glance. He wasn’t conscious and with the crater he was lying in, it wasn’t difficult to deduce what had happened. 

 

“Wow,” Clint said, shooting Bruce an impressed glance. “You really did a number on him.”

 

“Thanks,” Bruce said awkwardly, his eyes twitching to Thor. He said nothing, looking at his brother with an indiscernible look on his face.

 

Natasha was waiting for them, casually holding Loki’s scepter. Tony’s eyes zoomed in on it, grabbing for it with the words, “May I?”

 

Natasha raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but let go.

 

“Red suits you, you know? You should keep it.” With that Tony turned, heading the other way with the scepter in hand.

 

A beat passed.

  
Clint was the first to regain his bearings. “Where are you going with that?”

 

“The roof.” Tony didn’t even spare them a glance, and they had no choice but to follow.

 

“Did he hit his head?” Natasha muttered for only Steve to hear, but he could only shrug in response. They wouldn’t know what was going on with Tony until he told them.

 

What could he possibly want with the scepter? It was a risk to even just touch it. Even though Loki wasn’t wielding it any longer, they had experienced first hand how dangerous the scepter could be on the Helicarrier. They’d be lucky to get rid of it as soon as possible.

 

Even so, Tony walked with such purpose that it didn’t even occur to Steve to stop him. Not until he’d reached the tesseract, raised the scepter and  _ somehow _ managed to activate it. Steve’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in alarm.

 

Natasha was quicker in collecting her wits than he was. “Stark! What are you doing?!”

 

But it was too late. The air hummed intensely enough to make his bones shake. There was something pressing down on them, paralysing them where they stood and a blinding light. Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to get closer but failing. If only he could reach Tony and rip the scepter out of his hands…

 

“Tony!”

 

The humming stopped and the air exploded. 

 

Despite the energy wave pushing him back, Steve had somehow managed to stay on his feet. Not everyone had been as lucky. He shook his head to chase away the ringing in his ears, already searching the center of the explosion and… there!

 

“Tony!” he yelled, falling into a sprint and dropping down next to his fallen teammate. He didn’t see any life-threatening injuries, but Tony was coughing and clutching his arm where splinters had pierced his skin. What had he been thinking?!

 

“Well,” Tony said with a glance down. “Shit. That wasn’t according to plan.”

 

“What  _ was _ your plan?” Steve asked, staring at the scene in front of him incredulously. The tesseract was gone, blown to bits. As was the scepter. And next to Tony, amidst what was left of it, lay a glowing, yellow stone.

 

Tony followed his glance. “Don’t touch that. I’ll get a new suit to pick it up later. Well, I suppose one out of two is better than none.” That last part was muttered quietly with a glance at the splinters that were left of the tesseract.

 

“Stark.” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but it made chills run down Steve’s spine. Their attention snapped around, their weapons drawn and ready for a rematch. Loki, injuries forgotten despite his crouched posture, stared at Tony with thinly veiled fury and… was that  _ horror _ ? “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

 

“Sure do.” Tony, in contrast to them, seemed to be completely at peace at having the mass murderer glare daggers at him. He gestured towards the remains of the tesseract. “I’m gonna destroy five more of these and kick a titan in the butt. And since I’ve just destroyed what he wanted you to fetch him, you can either take your chances with him or have a change of mind. What will it be?”

 

There was silence, all of them reeling from the declaration. Then there was chaos as all of them tried to talk at once.

 

* * *

 

A headache was rapidly building up behind Steve’s eyes, and none of the other occupants of the tower were doing anything helpful to stop it. 

 

There was Tony, as calm as he could get, ignoring the utter chaos that he had left in his wake. Loki, who had somewhat blended into the background and miraculously neither tried to escape, nor started another attempt to murder them. And of course the rest of his teammates, who, in various states of shock, disbelief or stoicism, tried to talk sense into Tony. At once.

 

“Did you just offer the psychopath who attacked the city only  _ minutes  _ ago a redemption?! Because it sounded like–”

 

“Tony, wait. What are you even saying? This is  _ Loki  _ we’re talking about.”

 

“–been under the impression that we had come to an agreement. I was to take Loki and the tesseract home, and now you have destroyed the latter. Tell me, what are your intentions with–”

 

“–tell us what’s wrong. This concerns all of us, you can’t just–”

 

“Tony.” Steve raised his voice over the others when Tony strode through the tower like none of them were even there. “Tony, what are you doing?” In his opinion, they’d had to ask this question far too many times.

 

Although this time, to his surprise, Tony actually answered. If that answer made it better or worse was yet to be determined. “I’m preventing a gigantic purple maniac from destroying the world.”

 

Stunned silence followed.

 

“You’re mad,” Loki sneered, a spark of terror left in his voice. 

 

“What?!” Clint stared at him incredulously. “You’re not making any sense! Tony, Loki screwed with your head.”

 

Loki almost sounded offended at that. “I most certainly did no–”

 

“Loki,” Thor growled, daring him to keep talking. Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, rolling his eyes.

 

Steve tightened his grip around his shield. Even though his weapon was destroyed, it didn’t bode well with Steve that Loki was already recovering from his clash with the Hulk. Especially while he wasn’t properly detained.

 

Clint, meanwhile, wasn’t finished. “Just listen for a second and– What are you doing?”

 

Tony had picked up a phone, not bothering to answer any of their prior questions. “Making phone calls. I have African royalty and a Sorcerer Supreme to contact, and then there’s  HYDRA bases to dig out and three of their operatives to snatch up while I’m at it. I’m sure I’ll come up with more in a minute. Questions?”

 

From all the bombs he had just dropped, that last one snapped Steve out of his shock effectively. “HYDRA is gone,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “SHIELD told me so.” 

 

And he had been so quick to believe, hadn’t he? A world without Hydra, new and different but  _ safe _ , hadn’t it been worth it? Hadn’t it been exactly what he’d wanted to hear, waking up? Steve hadn’t survived the war by being naive.

 

Like he could read Steve’s mind, Tony’s voice dropped into a softer tone. “I’m sorry, Cap. But they’re not.” Next to them, Natasha and Clint stiffened even as Steve’s jaw clenched shut. “Cut off one head and all that, they’re like cockroaches. But don’t worry. I’ll let you help.”

 

Clint was having none of it. “Tony, this is crazy–”

 

“What do you know?” Steve interrupted, making a decision. If there was any chance that Tony was right, any chance at all… They might have had their differences, but Tony wasn’t the type of person to joke about it. Not about this.

 

Judging by Tony’s expression, he had realized that he’d won.

 

“Now, where do we even start?”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! This is the first of several Marvel stories that came out of my writing frenzy after Infinity War, so if you liked it, you can expect more to come featuring different characters. ^^
> 
> My betas are the wonderful **To Mockingbird** \- who was also so kind to come up with the wonderful title (that I may or may not have spent hours agonizing over from her list because _all of the choices were amazing, why are you doing this to me Moki_ ) and **PyrothTenka**! I highly recommend checking them out, because they are both amazing writers and even more amazing people~
> 
> Find me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) to scream with me about Infinity War.
> 
> Please leave a comment!  
> ~Gwen


	2. Chapter 2

In all fairness, Nebula had tried.

 

She’d woken up alone and disoriented, taking in the hated sight of her quarters on one of their old battle cruisers. Her flawless memory – the result of having her brain ripped out of her skull in favor of a computer – told her that it was the one that had been destroyed in their war against Noerus. 

 

If it could even be called a war. The miserable creatures had been wiped out within days, crushed by the hundreds by Nebula herself.

 

“Show me the date and our coordinates,” she growled, and numbers were projected from her own body’s recordings. She felt a spark of annoyance as she realized that she had spoken out loud despite not needing to. Idiot humans and their annoying habits. Some must have rubbed off.

 

Nebula turned her attention to the data and paused. She was further back than she had anticipated, too far for comfort. Grimly, she sifted through her mind’s backlog in search of details.

 

She had been right about their vessel, one of Thanos’ biggest war ships – but that was not the issue. No, what put her nerves on edge, what made her mind run cold and calculating, was that  _ Nebula  _ was on it. She tried telling herself that this was a good thing – it meant that Thanos had not yet acquired more than one of the infinity stones, and, missing their power, had to rely on old fashioned warfare to realize his goal – but it was almost impossible when it made the joints of her artificial body parts ache, when it made her thoughts recoil.

 

How could she be expected to stay calm when she was so close to  _ him _ ? 

 

Nebula was interrupted by a message popping up in her line of sight.

 

_ Meet us on the bridge. Your next assignment awaits. _

 

It did not mention its sender, and it did not need to. The hatred burning in Nebula’s gut in a never dimming fire spoke for itself. 

 

Nebula wasn’t stupid. She’d been taught in warfare and strategy by a master of the art, and she had the entire way to the bridge to think of ways to utilize her current predicament to the fullest. As reluctant about their plan as she’d been – wielding the power over time itself, using one of the least predictable of the infinity stones; only  _ Stark  _ could have come up with something ridiculously risky as this – she could not deny the possibilities it had opened up for them.

 

She was given the chance to play her role as the loyal, broken puppet she had been Before. She could operate under Thanos’ trust, could unravel his power from within, hit him where it hurt the most and sabotage his plans before he could even think of them completely.

 

In the end, Nebula lasted roughly two seconds. To be exact, she lasted until she laid eyes on Thanos for the first time and felt something inside of her snap.

 

“Daughter,” her miserable excuse of a father started. “Your sister is set to return shortly. Take Proxima and–”

 

The rest of his sentence was lost as Nebula’s fist collided with his face. “DIE, VERMIN!”

 

* * *

 

The entire bridge watched in mute horror as their lord – their  _ father _ – was thrown off of his seat by the attack of one of his own children. By one of their own.

 

Thanos did not fault them for their inaction. He himself was too stunned to react.

 

“I WILL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF THE SCORCHED REMAINS OF YOUR BODY!”

 

Thanos caught the second punch and pushed Nebula back. He touched his cheek and found a cut where Nebula’s cybernetic limb had sliced it. 

 

“Stop,” he said, raising his hand as several of his children rushed at Nebula to subdue her. “Return to your duties and leave her to me.”

 

They followed his orders with hesitant reluctance, but Thanos did not take his eyes off of Nebula. His daughter trembled with barely contained emotion, and Thanos had to admit that he was intrigued. Betrayal did not come from nothing, and before he defeated her, he wanted to know why.

 

“Talk to me, daughter,” he said and had to dodge another attack as she charged at him with a battlecry.

 

“You will hear nothing but my chant of victory as my blade breaches your thorax and pierces your heart slowly and agonisingly!”

 

“Not even to tell me why my own daughter wishes to kill me?” Thanos frowned as he fended off Nebula’s next attack. He had not taught her that maneuver. 

 

It wasn’t only her fighting moves that threw him off. Her entire body language, the very way she moved was off, was different from what it had been only hours prior. Gone was the cold rigidness of metal and machinery, gone the unnatural stillness that made one wonder where Nebula ended and the machine started. 

 

His daughter was many things: she was fierce and calculating, raised to be ruthless and competent, much like Gamora was. But she had never been unpredictable. She didn’t take initiative or unnecessary risks. And while her temper had always been her weakness, it had never surpassed her loyalty. 

 

Thanos was not above admitting that she had caught him off guard – the blood dripping from his cheek was proof of that. And that was not a feeling he was used to, especially not coming from his own children.

 

“As if you don’t know what you have done!” Nebula yelled, once again letting anger override her cunning and efficiency.

 

It made Thanos pause. He recognized the emotion flickering through Nebula’s eyes, had seen it dozens of times during as many of their training sessions. “This is about Gamora,” he guessed, and watched as Nebula froze.

 

“No,” she hissed, ice weighing heavy in her voice. “This was never about her. This is about you, mutilating my body for your own, sick purposes!”

 

Thanos frowned in equal puzzlement and displeasure. Nebula could not be more wrong. “That is not what I have done.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Nebula hissed and detached her arm just an inch, proving that it was artificial. “Then what do you call this?”

 

“An enhancement,” Thanos said truthfully. “Designed to make you your sister’s equal. I’ve seen your frustration each and every time she has bested you in combat, and I know your strive to be stronger better than anyone. All I have done is given you the tools to reach your full potential.” He paused, then added, “As a father should.”

 

“NO!” Nebula lashed out again, threw kicks and blades and punches, wielding none of the precision and beauty Thanos knew her capable of. When before, Thanos could have foreseen each and every of her attacks – could have traced them back to his own training sessions, to his own fighting prowess – now he found himself fending of a variety of unorthodox, puzzling moves. 

 

“This is not what a father is! You’ve corrupted me! You’ve tortured me! You’ve turned me into your puppet, into your weapon! AND FOR THAT YOU WILL PAY!”

 

It saddened Thanos to hear her words. While Gamora was the closest he had to a real daughter, he had thought that Nebula was one of his most loyal. Her assault did not cease, and Thanos decided that enough was enough.

 

Nebula grunted as she hit the ground with his strike.

 

“You cannot beat me, daughter.” He was not saying it to taunt her, but because it was true. It did not matter where Nebula had picked up her new style, because it could not compete with Thanos’ own. Few could.

 

Nebula, behind her fury and bloodlust, knew it as well. She growled, and for a moment Thanos thought that she would try again regardless. Then she paused. “... You’re right.”

 

Something in her tone made the rest of his crew tense in anticipation.

 

“I cannot beat you. Not alone.”

 

Her arm shot forward and Thanos braced himself for a blow that would not come. Her throwing knife sunk into the control station, aimed perfectly to knock them off of their course, shake the bridge and sound off alarm bells in a disorienting array of noise and flashing lights. 

 

The issue took seconds to correct, and seconds was all Nebula needed to disappear into the ventilation shafts.

 

Thanos had taught her well.

 

“Find her,” Thanos said and settled back in his seat.

 

He held no hope to regain the loyalty of a daughter who had tried to kill him, but he would not let her flee. He would get answers out of here, and if she forced him to get them out of her himself? So be it.

 

Nebula was by far not the first of his children to refuse his gift, and she would not be the last. He found no joy in her rejection, nor did he weep. 

 

He knew that all he could do was offer. He could not force acceptance, nor demand gratitude. And Thanos had resigned himself a long time ago that few saw his gift for what it was.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes, a few dozen corpses and three minor explosions later found Nebula sitting in a crappy transporter vessel that was little more than a glorified escape pod. It was only then, having barely escaped with her life, that Nebula realized what a huge target she had just painted on herself. It was perhaps, maybe, possible that all of this had been one giant mistake.

 

Nebula cleaned the gore of several of Thanos’ high ranked officers – including a member of his precious Black Order – off of her blade and could not bring herself to feel even an ounce of regret.

 

The monitor of her escape vessel displayed an attempt to contact her, and Nebula cursed. She thought she’d brought enough distance between them, but apparently not.

 

She was about to direct full power to the engines when a painfully familiar voice made her freeze in her tracks.

 

“Nebula, what is going on?!” 

 

She looked up to meet Gamora’s gaze, deep with confusion and anger. That was right: Going by the date, Nebula was not the only one still under their father’s thumb. Although considering that Gamora was scheduled to defect to the Guardians shortly, there was no way she was not already sprouting revenge fantasies against him.

 

In contrast to Nebula, she had the temperament to hide it from Thanos until it was her time to strike.

 

“What’s going on?” Gamora repeated. “Thanos sent me to capture you. I don’t know what you did, but–”

 

“There’s no time,” Nebula blurted out. If Gamora’s loyalty was already crumbling, but her cover was yet intact… She couldn’t believe her luck. 

 

Nebula’d been given a chance here, and she would not waste it with sentimentality. “Listen. I want the same thing as you do,” although it had taken her far too long to realize, “but Thanos can’t know.”

 

The ping of her sensors told her that Thanos’ fleet was nearing. She had only seconds to let Gamora know what to do.

 

“You have to chase me like Before. Pretend like nothing has changed. Understand?”

 

“What–”

 

“THERE’S NO TIME!” Nebula yelled, and activated the engine of her vessel. 

 

Her sister would be far more valuable as a spy. She had always been better at keeping her temper in check, and she would be more successful in keeping up the facade. After all, Nebula had already screwed it up for herself.

 

Having a spy so close to Thanos would prove invaluable in their fight against him. And now that Gamora knew that they were on one side, they would be able to share the joy of murdering their adoptive father in all the ways he would come to fear.

 

Later, Nebula would take a moment to pause and wonder whether there could have been better ways to phrase her message to Gamora. Logically, Nebula knew that the Gamora from the past was missing a lot of context, and in the heat of the moment Nebula had not considering talking to her any other way than she would have Before. 

 

In the end, Nebula shrugged the whole thing off and didn’t think about it for longer. Gamora was smart. She would figure it out.

 

* * *

 

On another, considerably less crappy spaceship, Gamora allowed herself exactly two heartbeats of stunned silence. Like nothing had changed? Chase her like before? What did that even mean?!

 

In the end, Gamora shrugged off her pseudo-sister’s words. All those modifications must have finally gotten to her, screwed with her head and pushed her over the edge. In all honesty, it had been only a matter of time until she lost it.

 

That, or it was another of Thanos’ elaborate training sessions. The more Gamora thought about it, the more sense it made. He wanted to test her reaction, her skills, like he had done so many times before. 

 

In either case, Gamora would not fail. She powered up the engines to follow Nebula’s trail, taking on the chase. She had an assignment to complete.

 

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's what's happening on Nebula's end. ^^ My betas, as always, are the wonderful **To Mockingbird** and **PyrothTenka**!
> 
> If you liked this fic, I've got two other Marvel stories up by now! One of them features [Loki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176378/chapters/35194295) and the other [Tony and Stephen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299694/chapters/35495001)!
> 
> Please leave a comment, and visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	3. Chapter 3

When the phone rang and interrupted Shuri’s excited rambling, T’Challa was less than thrilled, to put it mildly. 

 

It had been a long day of diplomatic meetings and political lessons, his father insisting on his involvement to let him learn. T’Challa carried out his duty proudly, knowing fully well that Wakanda would one day be his to nourish and rule.

 

But his dedication did not change the dullness and repetitive nature of some of their diplomats, and T’Challa had happily used what was left of his day to pay his little sister a visit in the labs.

 

The ten-year-old was in her element, soaking up the lessons the best of their scientists offered when they had the time, and discovering and learning on her own when they couldn’t. 

 

But of course, somebody just had to require his attention and interrupt their far too seldom bonding time.

 

Shuri was too curious to feel the same disappointment, and happily chattered on. “Who’s that? Is it Nakia? Are you two going somewhere? Can I come?”

 

“Nakia is not in Wakanda,” T’Challa said patiently. “And I won’t know who it is if you don’t let me answer.”

 

An unknown number. That was odd. T’Challa did not give this number to just anyone, and it should have been impossible for a stranger to get their hands on it.

 

“Hello?” he asked in Xhosa, and was surprised when the answer came in English instead.

 

“Is this T’Challa?” 

 

“Yes,” he answered, switching to English and shaking off Shuri’s questioning look. “Who is this?”

 

“Right. Okay. This is going to sound weird, but this is Tony Stark. From America. Iron Man, founding member of the Avengers, that whole shtick.”

 

“Tony Stark,” T’Challa repeated slowly. The name had sounded vaguely familiar, but only with Stark’s elaboration had he realized who he was talking to. Iron Man, American superhero and, according to his father, son of Howard Stark. There’d been a news report on the alien invasion only recently.

 

It did not answer any of the questions T’Challa had. “How did you get this number?” 

 

An awkward pause followed.

 

“Um. Google?” Stark said, his voice rising in a question and not at all convincing.

 

T’Challa raised an eyebrow despite Stark not being able to see it. If nothing else, it made Shuri grin. She hung onto his every word: she was an astonishingly fast learner, even though she did not pick up English as quickly as she did technology. 

 

“Why did you call?” he asked instead, humoring the other man.

 

“Right. So, this might sound weird–”

 

“Weirder than the fact that we are talking at all?”

 

“Possibly, yes. Quite probably, actually. Definitely. Um.” Stark cut himself off with a cough, and T’Challa couldn’t explain why he sounded so utterly unsure of his own words.  _ He  _ had initiated the conversation, not T’Challa.

 

“Please,” he said, intending to stop another bout of rambling before it could happen. “What is it that you called for?”

 

“Right. Okay. I know we’ve never talked and that Wakanda is super isolated and secret and also that my dad stole your super special element to make a frisbee out of it.” Another pause followed, more awkward than the one before it. “Anyway, the point is, I really need to borrow your sister.”

 

T’Challa blinked, speechless. He couldn’t have understood that correctly. 

 

“Oh, and the world might depend on it. No pressure.”

 

In front of him, Shuri bounced on her feet, eyes wide with curiosity at her brother’s odd reaction. “What did they say? What did they say?”

 

“I will have to call you back,” T’Challa said, his intuition telling him that he would rather do anything else instead.

 

* * *

 

“Dr. Strange! Hey, Dr. Strange!” 

 

Stephen Strange heaved a sigh, reluctantly coming to a halt at the hospital reception to stop the receptionist yelling after him. Stephen hadn’t bothered learning his name.

 

“What is it?” he said, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He would very must like to enjoy the rest of his break in peace, thank you very much. 

 

“U-Um. I-I’m sorry, but you have a call,” the receptionist said, his wide eyes and hushed voice suggesting he was holding a dangerous animal instead of a telephone. “A-Apparently you weren’t reachable on your phone–”

 

“I’m on my break,” Stephen interrupted, his patience effectively used up. “I turned it off. Whoever it is, tell them to try their luck learning some patience. People keep telling me it is a virtue.” 

 

With that he turned around, turning on his phone while he was at it. 36 missed calls. Whoever it was, they were persistent. Annoyingly so.

 

“W-Wait! Dr. Strange! It’s Tony Stark!”

 

That made Stephen freeze. He turned, raising an eyebrow at the receptionist. “Tony Stark?”

 

“Y-Yes. He says it’s important.”

 

“Huh.” What in the world could Tony ‘I am Iron Man’ Stark possibly want from him? He had thought that ordinary people like him existed far removed from an ego as big as his. Well, as ‘ordinary’ as you could call Stephen Strange, of course.

 

Perhaps a sick relative? If he was looking for the best of the best, Stephen was obviously at the top of the list.

 

“I’ll take it,” he said, snatching up the phone from the receptionist’s hand and ignoring the protests following him down the hallway. “This is Dr. Stephen Strange,” he started, but trailed off when he realized that Stark wasn’t listening. 

 

“–T’Challa call back yet? Yeah, I  _ know _ , J. Thanks for reminding me. Hmh. Yeah. Look, if worse comes to worst I’ll take the suit and fly over. Oh shush, it’s a marvelous idea, don’t be a spoilsport. Hey, what about the kid? I got some other stuff to take care of, but after that… He’s  _ how  _ old?! Jesus Christ. Is that even legal?”

 

“Stark,” Stephen said, once he’d had enough of his incomprehensible babbling. “This might come as a shock to you, but other people have lives of their own. My time is extremely limited.”

 

There was a pause. “Wow. Did someone set your broomstick on fire? You’re even more stuck-up than I rem– than I expected.”

 

“If there’s something you want from me, I assure you, this is the exact wrong way of getting me on your side.”

 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your wizard robe in a twist–” 

 

“My  _ what  _ now–”

 

“–but I know about your thing.”

 

“My thing,” Stephen repeated.

 

“Your mojo. Magic. Being Sorcerer Supreme, that whole thing. In all honesty, I’m impressed you haven’t already burst out with it yourself. You’re doing a far better job keeping it a secret than I did, that’s for sure.”

 

Stephen opened his mouth to say…  _ something, _ but Stark barreled on. “Now, I’m sure you’re just burning to ask how I know about it–”

 

“Wouldn’t be my first question.”

 

“–but I’m afraid that’ll have to wait. We need to meet. ASAP. And bring your amulet; it’s about the infinity stones and the entire universe is at stake.”

 

Stephen couldn’t remember the last time someone had managed to render him speechless. For a good few heartbeats, he gaped straight ahead. 

 

“Strange? Look, we’re kinda on a schedule, so if–”

 

“As enlightening of your eccentricities as this conversation may be,” Stephen said, breaking out of his stupor, “I have a surgery to complete in fifteen minutes. So unless you–”

 

“Wait. Did you just say surgery?”

 

“Yes. Seeing as I am a highly decorated  _ surgeon,  _ that should not come as that big of a surprise to you.”

 

There was silence on the other end, long enough to make Stephen check if Stark had ended the call. What an utter waste of time. It seemed like Stark needed help far beyond that of a mere surgeon; a shrink would be a good start.

 

“... Shit,” Stark said, finally breaking the silence. “Alright.” 

 

Another pause followed, and it sounded like he was genuinely at a loss what to say. Miracles did exist.

 

“Look, could you just call me back once you’re all magicked up?”

 

Stephen hung up the call. His time was too valuable to waste it on an eccentric – and apparently, completely bonkers – billionaire turned superhero.

 

* * *

 

Random Goon #62 was nervous. 

 

No, that wasn’t right: Nervous didn’t even begin to cover it. She looked at the brightly flashing alarm, its warning bells piercing her ears, fully aware that for several weeks, the news had been stuffed with reports of the so-called “Avengers” (she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry at their choice in name). More specifically, reports of their many victories.

 

Only a few months prior, Hydra had operated in the shadows. Nobody had even known that they had survived beyond the 20th century.

 

And now, beginning just after aliens had almost destroyed New York, six clowns in suits and costumes were going after them, uncovering and blasting through Hydra base after Hydra base that none of them had any right to know about.

 

The alarm shone red over #62’s face. And now they were here. In her base, six freaks with weapons and/or superpowers beyond their imagination, one of them Captain fucking America. Who was alive, apparently. Hydra’s biggest enemy had somehow survived his crash in the Arctic, was well into his 90s – because that was a thing that was possible now – and was after them.

 

It wouldn’t be quite as hilariously ironic if #62 had any corporate loyalty to speak off. Honestly, she was just in it for the – admittedly generous – paycheck. If this wasn’t karma, she didn’t know what was.

 

She’d never even been in a serious combat situation before. She spent most of her job tapping away at a computer or standing in front of a door, looking threatening – for whenever they had guests they had to impress; she wasn’t actually trained as a guard – and had never seen any action around here before.

 

And now she was up against the Avengers. You ally yourself with people who were technically Nazis  _ one time _ …

 

Perhaps in retrospect, #62 should have seen it coming.

 

A bang close to her position suggested that another door had met its end at the hand of Captain America’s shield. Or actual-norse-deity-Thor’s hammer. Or – and they were  _ so  _ screwed – Hulk, the green rage monster that had single-handedly flattened Harlem. #62 wanted to laugh so she wouldn’t burst into tears instead.

 

She grabbed the next best object as a weapon – no, she did not have an actual gun, she was a computer analyst, for Thor’s sake (would he spare her if she made him an offering, she wondered? Mildy hysterically, she wished she had payed closer attention in mythology class).

 

She looked down, checking her weapon of choice. Brilliant. The enemy had an armor built by the world’s best weapons manufacturer, the actual hammer of Thor from the myths and the  _ Hulk. _ And she had a stapler. Wonderful.

 

Nevertheless, #62 slowly made her way down the hallway. Perhaps if she was sneaky, she would be able to leave the base without ever having to catch even a glance of them. She still had a chance to escape, if she only used all of her cunning and–

 

She rounded a corner, ran straight into Black Widow with an “ _ Umpf _ ” and landed on her butt in front of them. Additionally to the spy, Iron Man and Captain America in the flesh stared down at her.

 

Oh god. Oh dear god. She was screwed. She was so utterly, perfectly  _ screwed.  _

 

#62 dropped her stapler like it had burned her. “Don’t shoot! Please don’t shoot! I swear I’ll do whatever you want, I’m new here, I don’t even know what’s going on, honestly, these guys give me the  _ creeps _ –”

 

Oh man. Oh dear. Black Widow’s glare could have frozen  _ fire  _ and Captain America looked at her, his shield raised and eyes full of righteousness and an expression that screamed disappointment. Somewhere near, an eagle must have started crying. 

 

And Iron Man? His faceplate was up, revealing an entirely too cheerful Tony Stark. “Go on, Captain Underpants, tie her up.” Next, he looked straight at #62. “Don’t worry about Widow. She only wants you to think she’s scary.” His voice dropped into a mock-whisper. “She has a thing for Disney movies, you know? But to be fair, who doesn’t?”

 

#62 didn’t know what was happening, her eyes nearly bulging out of her skull. Was she supposed to answer? Had Iron Man just used a silly nickname on America’s icon and dropped personal information on  _ the  _ Spy, with a capital S? How was he even still alive?

 

Captain America only sighed, dropping down next to her to do as he was told. Widow’s death glare had redirected to an entirely unconcerned Iron Man.

 

“Just do as he says,” Captain America muttered, almost gently dragging her to her feet. His voice was subdued in a way that screamed of a long, tiring day. #62 thought she was starting to realize the reason for that.

 

The moment she was on her feet, Iron Man zoomed in on her again.

 

“Do you happen to know where your freezers are?”

 

“I thought we were looking for the Enhanced,” Widow said, and was somehow intimidating despite her entirely neutral expression.

 

“Nah, we’re doing those next. I thought Stevie would want to get this out of the way, first.”

 

“Why would I–”

 

“Stark,” Widow interrupted, “this isn’t a joke. Whatever you’re looking for is–”

 

“Right here,” Iron Man said, “so it’s too late anyway.”

 

#62 scraped together enough courage to speak up. “I don’t know–”

 

“It’s okay,” Iron Man interrupted, “I do.”

 

Her mouth snapped shut with a click. Iron Man proceeded to stride through the hallways confidently like he knew exactly where he was going – which was impossible, but then again, so was their general presence – and #62 was dragged along for the ride. Why couldn’t they have just left her? She should have stayed in bed this morning.

 

She must have zoned out for a bit, wallowing in self-pity, because the next time she looked up the Avengers had found – and subdued – her boss. Along with all of the high-ranking personnel that had been with her. Considering how comically fast everything was over, #62 felt a bit better about being captured herself.

 

And alright, there was apparently a dramatic monologue happening. Those were practically part of the job description, so #62 leaned back, preparing for a few long, drawn out minutes.

 

Except Iron Man wasn’t having it.

 

“Avengers,” her boss hissed, hatred written in every fiber of her expression. “You do not even begin to understand the power Hydra is wielding. Our influence reaches high, higher than–”

 

“You mean Senator Pierce?”

 

Her boss’ voice stuttered to a halt in disbelief. “H-How could you–?” She cut herself off, recovering admirable quickly. “No matter. He is but a pawn in our grand scheme. Decades of careful planning have allowed us to–”

 

“Infiltrate SHIELD? Get your hands on a pair of kids with superpowers? Or do you mean your side project of duplicating the super soldier serum in form of a brainwashed popsicle?”

 

Next to them, both the Captain and Widow stiffened. Her boss gaped up at her captor, disbelief coloring her expression and utterly speechless. “But… H-How…”

 

“What can I say? I’m just that awesome.”

 

“Stark,” Widow hissed, a warning that promised a slow and painful death if he didn’t explain himself right this instance. For once, Iron Man was smart enough to comply.

 

“Fine,” he said, dropping the cheerful tone. “We’re here to bust out the Winter Soldier.”

 

“Do you have any idea,” Widow began, but she was cut off once again.

 

“I do, actually.” Iron Man turned to the Captain. “Look, Cap. This isn’t gonna be pretty, so. Try to limit your rampage to the bad guys and keep in mind that I have ways of helping him.”

 

The crease between the Captain’s eyes showed that he had no idea what Iron Man was talking about, but he nodded, tense and tight-lipped. There had to be some kind of trust between them, because he followed Iron Man without asking more questions.

 

Five minutes later and faced with a livid American icon tearing apart their base piece by piece, #62 saw her life flash before her eyes and took the time to regret every single of the choices she had made that had brought her into this particular situation.

 

While she was at it, she also cursed whoever had had the brilliant idea of picking Captain America’s best friend to be their super secret weapon/assassin – what could have  _ possibly  _ gone wrong with that? 

 

Oh well. If by any chance #62 survived to live another day, she could at least say out of personal experience that the Avengers were far less stoically heroic than the media made them out to be. And Iron Man? If Iron Man wasn’t stark raving mad, she would eat the stapler she had so valiantly used to defend her life from these lunatics.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and, now that he's finally seen Infinity War, **Igornerd**! (It's about damn time, Igor :P) 
> 
> Please leave a comment, and visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	4. Chapter 4

Nebula spent the next few weeks getting exactly nothing done as she was too busy struggling not to be captured by her sister. It was not that Nebula didn’t appreciate that she was going along with her plan, but why in the world did she have to be so enthusiastic about it?! 

 

She had to remind herself that Gamora had to act convincingly to keep her cover, and Nebula would thank her for it later. It would serve them well in the future, she was sure.

 

Nebula tried to hold onto that thought even as she dodged a barrage of her sister’s battle systems for the third time in as many sleep cycles.

 

A few dozen evasive maneuvers and a blown fuel tank later Nebula (crash)landed on the circumbinary Qeonia, a sad excuse for a planet with its only redeeming quality being the dust cloud that surrounded it, dense enough to disrupt most types of sensors. 

 

Not wasting time with securing her vessel – if somebody was desperate enough to steal what was essentially a flying piece of garbage, she was inclined to thank them for taking it off her hands – Nebula entered the first of the bunker-like structures that looked promising to find somebody able to sell her spare parts.

 

Qeonia was not the kind of place most people knew about – or voluntarily sought out – which made it perfect to lie low for as long as she needed to repair her escape vessel.

 

Thanks a lot, Gamora.

 

Nebula’s memory had not failed her. Inside of the “bunker” she found one of Qeonia’s traditional marketplaces, stalls and counters stacked together in a labyrinth of activity.

 

Finding mechanical parts (in a stack that resembled more of a garbage dump) wasn’t difficult, and Nebula was crowded by an individual a head taller than her almost immediately. Nebula could not place the species, although her round, dark eyes and the markings on her hairless skull made her suspect the Corona System.

 

“Looking for a new one, Lupha?” the merchant asked, all of her eyes sliding towards Nebula’s cybernetic arm. 

 

Nebula scowled at the nickname – the abbreviation of a species Nebula barely remembered, despite it being her own – and jerked down the sleeve of her uniform to cover her arm. “I need tools to repair my ship.”

 

“I can help with that. And with many things more.”

 

“Just the parts. Hand me what I need, and I’ll be on my way.”

 

The merchant looked down at her, an annoying twinkle in her eyes. Her teeth were sharp and might have been unnerving with the way she grinned, if Nebula wasn’t quite as irritated as she was.

  
“First, tell me what you’re looking for.”

 

“I  _ said, _ ” Nebula pressed out through clenched teeth, “that I’m here for spare parts.”

 

“So you’ve said. But what is it that you  _ want _ ?” The merchant paused, her eyes focused on Nebula unblinkingly. “It may surprise you how many people end up on Qeonia by accident.”

 

“It would surprise me more if people came here voluntarily.”

 

The merchant laughed, a throaty sound that made Nebula’s scowl deepen. “You’re not wrong. But you haven’t let me make my point. People love to talk, but they do not think to mind their words in a place like this. Qeonia is not a place you remember, once you have left.”

 

“And your point?” Nebula crossed her arms impatiently. 

 

“Tell me what you seek, and I might be able to tell you who to look for. Or where.”

 

Nebula contemplated the offer. She was not hoping to fly under the radar for long in the first place – punching the Mad Titan in the face had taken care of that in a most spectacular fashion – so in a way, she did not have to concern herself with keeping a low profile as much as she might have in different circumstances.

 

On the other hand, unnecessarily drawing attention towards her search for the infinity stones sounded like a particularly bad idea.

 

Or she could kill the merchant afterwards. Nebula was not picky.

 

“What I’m looking for are artifacts as old as the universe itself,” she finally settled on.

 

The merchant’s laughter made her grit her teeth painfully tight, the noise grating on her nerves and hurting her ears. “There is no such thing!”

 

Nebula’s growled, and didn’t even have to pull her knife to make the merchant fall silent.

 

“Alright.” The merchant leaned back, her eyes straying to all sides in what might have been a thoughtful gesture. “Artifacts as old as the universe itself,” she repeated. “You are looking for a special kind of collector. The kind who seeks but the most special possessions to call their own.”

 

“I know of  _ the _ Collector.” Who didn’t? If this was the best the merchant could come up with, Nebula was wasting her time. “No one else could possibly be enough of a moron to play with that kind of power.”

 

“I was not talking about  _ him. _ ” Something akin to scorn decorated the word. “And you underestimate what greed makes people do.”

 

That made Nebula pause. “You have names?”

 

“I have coordinates,” the merchant countered. “And the more details you can give me on the objects that you seek, the more helpful they will be.”

 

“What do you want in return?”

 

The merchant leaned back, tilting her head in contemplation. “I have vessels to offer. The highest quality you will find around these parts.” All of her eyes rounded back towards Nebula in a swirl of movement. “Forget your spare parts. Buy one of them, and I will send you on your way with the information you need.”

 

Nebula pretended to consider when in reality, the stolen units that had once been Thanos’ did not make the choice difficult at all.

 

“Tell me what you know about the infinity stones, and I will consider the deal.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting in a proper space ship at last and typing in the first set of coordinates, Nebula felt a certain amount of glee at having spent a ridiculous amount of Thanos’ money.

 

The several leads on locations that could possibly bring her closer to the infinity stones did not hurt either.

 

* * *

 

What Nebula had not considered, was what came after reaching her destination.

 

* * *

 

The first set of coordinates led Nebula to a Parean handler whose collection was as broad as their species’ definition of the word “merchandize”. They were not difficult to find, stalking over the surface of a minor, carbon based planet like it belonged to them. Chances were that it did.

 

One would think that such an individual could afford bodyguards that took longer to cut down.

 

“Tell me what you know of the infinity stones,” Nebula snapped, crowding in on them with her blood-dripping blade. It did not have the effect she had desired.

 

“Bold question. Who’s asking it?”

 

Nebula narrowed her eyes. Either the handler was very brave or very stupid. “I will cut off one of your limbs for every question that you fail to answer, starting with your fingers. You have time to relent until all the blood has drained from your body, at which point I will make sure that nobody will recognize your mutilated corpse for who it once was. Talk.”

 

The handler paused, but did not shy away. “I have dealt with many people like you in my career.” They tilted their head towards Nebula and ignored her growl of warning. “And I think you’re bluffing.” 

 

They leaned back with a self-assured smirk, gloating as if they had already won. “Am I right?”

 

Stupidity it was.

 

Security found them half a dozen body parts later, and Nebula was ready to admit that the no longer screaming mess that was left of the douchebag of a handler did not, in fact, have any clue whatsoever where the infinity stones were.

 

Seeing as they had pathetically tried to bargain for their life after only a single cut – their offers ranging from artifacts over property to people – Nebula’s satisfaction at causing them pain far outweighed her disappointment over the fact.

 

Later, once she found out about the bounty on her head that had nothing to do with Thanos, Nebula tentatively considered if perhaps a different approach would bring her further the next time around.

 

* * *

 

Whatever kind of strategy Nebula could have come up with, she did not get the opportunity to test it. 

 

The next set of coordinates had to be a mistake. It lead her to a nameless planet, remote and underdeveloped enough to not even have a standardised translator chip – something almost unthinkable, seeing as every society who had even remotely touched intergalactic travel (or visitors) possessed them.

 

“I’m looking for the infinity stones!” Nebula snapped for what felt like the twentieth time, her arm itching to summon her blade. 

 

The locals were not discouraged from her increasingly bad mood, and kept alternating between muttering among themselves and trying to communicate with Nebula in a myriad of gestures, signs and meaningless babble. 

 

“No! No, they look like this!” Nebula projected an image depicting the infinity stones – artificially recreated by her, as this body had not yet had the chance to record their appearance. 

 

The locals’ reaction was immediate. Their eyes widened, their heads moving frantically as they chattered to each other in excitement. One of them took hold of Nebula’s arm, and, instead of pulverizing them for the audacity, Nebula allowed herself to be tugged along.

 

“Yes! Which one of them have you seen?”

 

She was taken towards one of the planet’s meager structures, and another set of locals came out, presenting her with a tray and beaming happily.

 

“No! I don’t want your jewelry!” Nebula yelled, fuming as she slapped away the hand of an individual trying to put a band of glass pearls around her neck.

 

Another day wasted, and another half dozen destinations to come.

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing Nebula had learned in her life, it was that greed made people do almost everything.

 

“You have something that I want,” she said, far too publically for her liking, but allowing her subject to bask in the (misleading) safety of a crowd. “Information on a certain object. I am willing to pay you a small fortune to obtain it.”

 

“Oh? A small fortune you say?” The harsh features of her subject’s lizard-like visage did little to hide his interest. It seemed like he didn’t even try to hide it. This would be easy. “How much are we talking?”

 

Nebula held up the screen displaying a sum of units wordlessly, and his scales stood up in excitement. “What information? What do you want to know?”

 

He would not even try to haggle. What an amateur. Nebula could not believe her luck. “What do you know about the infinity stones?”

 

A shiver ran through him as his scales flattened against his body. “W-What–? Why would you– Oh!” All tension left his body and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “He sent you, didn’t he? To test me?” His mouth pulled into a harsh grin. “You won’t hear nothing from me!”

 

“Nobody sent me,” Nebula snapped. “Tell me what you know!”

 

There was another shiver, and Nebula had to suppress the urge to growl in annoyance. “Nice try. You are very convincing. But don’t worry! I promised to hold my silence, and I will.”

 

Nebula cried out in frustration and didn’t realize she had drawn her blade until the chair nearest to her fell apart cut to pieces. She stuffed the units back into her pocket, seeing as it seemed less and less likely that she would need them.

 

Around them, the room had fallen silent.

 

“Let’s try this again,” Nebula growled. “Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Whatever. There were other ways of persuasion besides bribes.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been watching you,” Nebula hissed as introduction, making her next victim freeze in their steps. The artificial features of their face did not quite manage to hide their wariness.

 

Their name was Ila, and while they had never met Nebula before, Nebula had spent the better part of the past dozen sleep cycles getting to know them intimately well. She’d hated every second of it – Nebula was not made for  _ stealth _ missions – but if it finally brought her closer to the information she sought, it would have been worth it. 

 

“I’ve kept an eye on you for a long time. And I know about your secret.”

 

“W-What–”

 

“I want information,” Nebula cut them off. “Or you will have to bear the consequences of your actions. What would Ay say if they found out about Iht?”

 

Ila tensed as they realized the gravity of the situation, hesitated as they tried to find another solution, and finally turned as they accepted their fate. Their eye lense narrowed as it zoomed in on Nebula, and she hoped they wouldn’t start begging. How she hated the begging.

 

Finally Ila’s mouth slid open, and… “Wait. What?”

 

Nebula scowled in annoyance. Would she have to spell it out for them? “Tell me what I want to know, or your beloved will find out about the affair you have taken great care to hide from them.”

 

“Hide from them? But Iht is part of the relationship just as much as Ay!”

 

“... What.”

 

“Iht and Ay love each other, just as much as I love them.” As impossible as it should have been to form a dopey smile with a jaw made of metal, Ila somehow managed to succeed. It was sickening.

 

“But your species values monogamous, life-long lasting bonds!”

 

“Oh, you’re confusing me with a Tessian. They’re monogamous.” Their eyes fell shut in a far too cheerful way. “I’m a Tespian, we’re polygamous!”

 

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Nebula resisted the urge to slam her head into the nearest wall.

 

“Don’t worry.” Ila made it worse by laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “People make that mistake a lot.”

 

* * *

 

Bribes hadn’t brought Nebula closer to her goal. Blackmail had not worked, either. Threats had blown up in her face.

 

The next time Nebula tried, she decided to take a leaf out of the  _ heroes’  _ book, and put on a facade as friendly and forth coming as she managed.

 

“Hello friend,” she said, falling into the seat opposite of her next subject and twisting her mouth into a smile in her best Mantis impression.

 

He fainted on the spot and hit the ground before Nebula had the chance to say more than those two words.

 

The smile slid off her face and into a scowl at once. Whatever.

 

* * *

 

Nebula was close to giving up and reverting back to her strategy of threats and bodily harm when she landed on a small, inconspicuous planet that hid the base of one of the biggest smuggling rings in this part of the universe.

 

She had not heard from Gamora since she had landed on Queonia – so long ago – but she was not worried. Her sister was strong, so her concern would be misplaced. 

 

It didn’t mean that she didn’t wonder.

 

Nebula did not have to bother looking for her next contact. Somebody tracked her down, first.

 

“You’re the one who has been asking about the infinity gems, aren’t you?”

 

Nebula paused stiffly. “Who’s asking?”

 

“Somebody who owes the Great Titan a great deal.”

 

He thought that Nebula was still working for Thanos. What a moron. “Then you know that the best way to show your devotion is to help him seek out the objects he desires.” Perhaps he was one of the miserable creatures profiteering from one of Thanos’ crusades. Perhaps Thanos wiped out one of his enemies.

 

Or perhaps he was one of the lunatics who genuinely believed in Thanos’ cause. Whichever was the case, Nebula would use any and all advantages that presented themselves to her.

 

“Of course,” he whispered, and Nebula wanted to roll her eyes at the blind devotion that clouded his tone. “I will tell you what I know.”

 

His voice lowered even further. “There’s been whispers… that one of them has been stolen.”

 

“Stolen?!” Nebula hissed. “By whom?!”

 

“That’s where it gets interesting.” He paused, but hurried to keep talking when Nebula growled. “They say that the thieves are a group of outlaws.”

 

Nebula leaned closer as his voice trembled with excitement, oh so pleased to be able to help out the Titan’s daughter. “They call them… the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

 

Nebula froze, stunned into silence.

 

Thanos’ follower tilted his head hesitantly. “Um. Do you know th–”

 

Nebula broke out of her stupor with the pent up frustration of several pointless,  _ wasted  _ weeks. “THOSE MORONS!”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I quite like the montage-style myself, I feel like it fits well for the story.
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, and visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	5. Chapter 5

The time it took T’Challa to track down his father was not enough to figure out how to explain what had happened to him without making Stark sound like a raving lunatic. In the end, T’Challa simply gave up and decided instead to get it over with quickly.

 

The king was alone when he found him, so T’Challa did not need to bother with formalities. “Baba,” he said, greeting him with a nod.

 

“T’Challa.” His father gave him a wide smile. “Did you not plan to spend time with your sister?” His smile dimmed in fake wariness. “The lab is still standing, is it not?”

 

“Have some faith in your daughter,” T’Challa said, even as his mouth pulled into a smile.

 

“I have fullest faith in her mind. Her caution? Not so much.” His father shook his head. “What is it that you came to tell me?”

 

T’Challa hesitated, choosing his words. “I’ve received a troubling call from America.”

 

“From America? Was it one of the War Dogs?”            

 

“No. It wasn’t anyone from Wakanda.”

 

His father frowned. “You were not contacted through your Kimoyo Beads, I hope?”

 

“No,” T’Challa said, “of course not.” Their Kimoyo Beads were a purely Wakandan invention. Most of their people didn’t need other means of communication, but those who needed to reach other countries – or even continents – kept more widespread devices on them. “That is not what made the call troubling.”

 

His father relaxed at the confirmation that their technology had not fallen into the wrong hands. “What then? Speak to me, my son.”

 

It occurred to T’Challa then that perhaps he had simply overreacted. He did not want to cause his father concern where it was not warranted. “It is probably nothing,” he said. “I was merely surprised. The call was from Tony Stark–”

 

“Stark?” His father’s brows rose. “Howard Stark’s son?”

 

“Yes. He knew about his father and the Vibranium.”

 

“Hmm.” His father did not seem overly concerned about the news, and T’Challa allowed himself to lose some tension. “When Howard Stark stole our Vibranium, he did so in the belief that it was the biggest piece of it in existence. As arrogant as it may be, if that is what he told his son, there should be no need for us to worry.”

 

T’Challa frowned, not entirely convinced.

 

“You have doubts?” His father asked.

 

“I am not sure,” T’Challa said. “He did not specify what he wanted, but the way he talked about Wakanda…” He trailed off, recalling as much as he could from their phone call. In retrospect, he should have kept Stark talking for longer. “He called Wakanda ‘isolated’ and ‘secret’. He did not sound like someone who thought of us as a nation of poor farmers.”

 

“Do you fear that he knows more about us than he should?”

 

“Perhaps. He implied so on multiple occasions.”

 

His father paused, his brows drawn up in worry. “You are right. That is concerning.”

 

There was a pause as T’Challa thought about his next words. Compared to his father, he was still new to the world of politics. “You could send ambassadors to talk to him,” he suggested.

 

“With what reasoning?” His father shook his head. “I cannot send ambassadors to someone like Stark without being given a reason to do so. He contacted you. He will not accept random delegates.” He paused, then blinked. When he looked back to T’Challa, it was with an entirely different expression. “My son. You know that I trust you, don’t you?”

 

A spark welled up in T'Challa's chest, half surprise and half pride. "Of course, Baba."

 

"Some day, you are going to be king. And you will have to learn to act in Wakanda's best interest without my guidance."

 

"Of course," T'Challa said, again. 

 

"Why not use this as a learning experience? Take one of our jets and follow Stark's call to America. Find out what he wants and what he knows about us. I will lend you a few of the Dora to accompany you." 

 

T’Challa’s eyes widened. “You want me to go to America? Without you?”

 

“It is about time, don’t you think? How long have I trained you to take over my duties, once your time comes?”

 

“Still…” T’Challa hesitated. “Do you think I am ready?”

 

His father laid a hand on his shoulder. "I do. I know you can do it, T'Challa. I have full confidence in your ability to handle this."

 

T'Challa laid his hand over his father's, his mouth pulling into a wide smile. "Your trust means a lot to me. I will not disappoint you." A thought occurred to him that made his smile waver. "There is one more thing about Stark."

 

"Oh?"

 

"He asked about Shuri. I am not sure how he knows about her at all, nor why he would want her to accompany me to America."

 

His father's brows knit together. "An odd request, indeed. Although seeing who his father was, I would not be surprised if he planned to steal our technology for his own gain."

 

T'Challa's mouth curled in distaste at the mere thought. Could that be the reason? Did Stark know about their technological advances, and try to get to them through a young, impressionable Shuri? 

 

"Would you like to take her?"

 

T'Challa blinked. "What?"

 

"Shuri. Would you like to take her along to America?"

 

T'Challa stared. "You are not joking?"

 

"Why would I?" His father's smile was warm and trusting. "You are an adult, and I know I can trust you to take care of her. Besides," his smile widened, "you know how badly she's wanted to see the outside world. You were the same age when I brought you along overseas for the first time."

 

"I suppose... Although I hadn't thought of America as the best first destination. It is quite far." 

 

"It is your decision, of course. Just know that whichever you decide, you have my full encouragement." His father's mouth pulled into a grin. "You may want to consider how she will react when she learns that you visited New York without her."

 

* * *

 

Needless to say, Shuri was ecstatic at the prospect of their trip to America, and had finished packing her bags by the time T’Challa had only started. They entered the jet brimming with excitement – Shuri quite literally, T’Challa more reserved – and crossed Wakanda’s border only a few minutes later.

 

T’Challa couldn’t help but feel pleased at how well everything was going. He was on his way to his first independent diplomatic mission overseas. His father trusted him to complete it on his own. He even trusted him with Shuri. 

 

No matter what happened, T’Challa wouldn’t disappoint him. He would prove himself worthy of his father’s trust, and he would prove that he would make a great king, once his time came.

 

An hour into the flight, and T’Challa’s excitement had dimmed enough to allow for some tactical thinking. Everything that his father knew about Tony Stark he had told T’Challa, but it wasn’t much. He was going in blindly, trusting himself to be able to improvise once they had arrived. But it was fine. He could do this. His father trusted him to complete his task, and he would.

 

Three hours into the flight, and Shuri fell asleep in her seat. Looking at her, T’Challa realized with sudden clarity how young she was. What if Tony Stark was a horrible influence on her? What if America was? He wouldn’t be able to send her back on her own – they only had one jet – so she would be stuck in America for as long as it took T’Challa to complete his mission.

 

But his father trusted him, even with Shuri. T’Challa would be fine. 

 

Several hours more into the flight and they finally crossed American borders. Shuri woke up to press her face against the window, taking everything in with childlike curiosity. 

 

T’Challa’s expression on the other hand was carved of stone. Their journey was already so long. America was so far away. What if they needed help? What if something went wrong with the jet? What if something was wrong with Shuri? 

 

“Okoye,” T’Challa said, and realized how quiet his Dora Milaje had been for the bulk of the flight. They seemed similarly unimpressed about the prospect of setting foot in New York. “What am I doing?”

 

Okoye’s glare spoke volumes. “I wouldn’t know, your Highness.”

 

T’Challa closed his eyes and leaned back with a sigh. 

 

Next to him, Shuri had began chatting happily, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “We’re here, right? This is New York? Everything looks so… gray.”

 

“Yes,” T’Challa said, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “This is New York.” And now that they had arrived, there was no point in having second thoughts over his decision. Perhaps he was slightly underprepared, but it did not mean he could not be successful. He would be fine. He could do this.

 

“Is that Stark Tower?” Shuri’s face took on a look of critical assessment. “It’s okay,” she decided. “A bit boring. Everything in Wakanda looks far prettier.”

 

“It does,” Okoye agreed, peeking out of the window with far less enthusiasm than Shuri did. 

 

T’Challa had to agree. Out loud, he said, “Perhaps try not to insult their architecture to their faces, once we land. Be polite.” He turned a pointed glare at Okoye. “Both of you.”

 

Shuri rolled her eyes, and T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “I can turn this plane around.”

 

“Fine! No insulting people to their faces. Got it.”

 

“As you wish,” Okoye said, somehow communicating with just the rise of an eyebrow that she did not appreciate being put on the same level as a ten-year-old girl, but that she let him get away with it. This time.

 

“T’Challa,” Shuri said, leaning over in her seat. “Someone is trying to contact us.”

 

“Put them through,” T’Challa said, not scolding his sister for fiddling with the controls. He shared a glance with Okoye. Both of them were aware that Shuri knew the plane better than he did by a mile.

 

“These are the royal siblings Shuri and T’Challa, arriving from Wakanda for our diplomatic meeting. Who’s speaking?” The put-on professionalism in her heavily accented English was belied by the giddy excitement gleaming in her eyes. If nothing else came out of this trip, at least Shuri was having the time of her life.

 

“Welcome to America,” a smooth, polite voice answered them. “Please steer towards the landing pad provided at the top of Stark Tower. You will be able to enter from there.”

 

T’Challa shared a glance with Okoye, but he nodded for Shuri to follow the instructions.

 

Was he being a responsible older brother, letting his baby sister land a jet on her own? Oh well. It wasn’t his fault that Shuri was brilliant.

 

“Wait here,” he instructed the other two Dora Milaje, waving for Okoye to follow them. “We will contact you if we’re in need of assistance.”

 

A door opened for them as soon as they stepped foot on the landing pad, and T’Challa put a hand on Shuri’s shoulder to stop her from rushing ahead. They stepped into a spacious elevator, which started to move without any of them having given it instructions. 

 

“Welcome to Stark Tower,” the same accented voice greeted them as they entered, calling from somewhere out of the ceiling. “I have been instructed to lead you to the nearest conference room. The meeting will continue shortly, although I am afraid that Mr. Stark has not yet returned.”

 

“Are you an interface?” Shuri said, ignoring everything the voice had just said.

 

“Not quite, Princess Shuri. My name is JARVIS. I am an artificial intelligence and I was created by Mr. Stark to run the tower.”

 

“An artificial intelligence,” Shuri repeated, her eyes practically sparkling. Wakanda specialized in mechanical engineering and nano tech, not computer engineering. Which was not to say that they did not have advanced computer programs; the concept of an AI had not been worth pursuing when there was so much more they could improve on in their preferred fields.

 

“Does that mean you can think on your own? Beyond your programming?”

 

T’Challa could have sworn that the AI hesitated for the fraction of a second. “Mr. Stark has given me much freedom over how I am able to interact with the physical world.”

 

The implications of that were mildly alarming, and T’Challa was not surprised that of all of his inventions, Stark kept this particular creation away from the public. JARVIS could make many people extremely nervous, and rightfully so.

 

“You have reached your destination,” JARVIS said as the elevator stopped. They stepped out into a bare conference room, empty chairs at a long, empty table. “Please take a seat, and apologies for the wait.”

 

“If you’re an AI, you must have opinions,” Shuri said, dropping down on the nearest chair. “What’s your favorite color? No, that’s dumb. Element! What’s your favorite element?”

 

“I cannot say that I have a particular preference,” JARVIS said. “However, if I were to choose, I would have to say Starkanium.”

 

“Starkanium,” Okoye deadpanned. While T’Challa had tentatively taken the chair next to Shuri, Okoye remained standing.

 

“Starkanium is considered to be the key to limitless, renewable and clean energy. As the name suggest,” JARVIS said, his voice so dry that it sounded remarkably human, “it was created by Mr. Stark and has since then powered this tower as well as his suits.”

 

“Does he often name inventions after himself?” Okoye asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Mr. Stark has attempted to file a patent for the name ‘Badassium’. He has had to settle on the alternative after he encountered several bureaucratic obstacles.”

 

Shuri laughed, and a smile tugged at T’Challa’s lips. He had no doubt that Shuri could spend hours interrogating the AI without getting bored, but unfortunately, they had come for a reason. 

 

“Where is Mr. Stark?” he asked before Shuri had the chance to ask something else. “We had an appointment.”

 

“My apologies. I am afraid Mr. Stark has gotten sidetracked gathering the remaining participants of the conference. Rest assured that I have alerted him of your presence, and he is on his way.”

 

“The remaining participants?” T’Challa repeated, mildly alarmed. “Mr. Stark has made the impression that he was interested in a personal meeting. Just how many other people has he invited?”

 

“My apologies for the misunderstanding,” JARVIS said. “The conference will be held by Mr. Stark, addressing your Highness from Wakanda, the five other founding members of the Avengers and related parties. The topic of the discussion will be the New York invasion, as well as expected consequences for the future and contingency plans.”

 

There was a beat of silence. T’Challa turned towards Okoye, who unhelpfully raised an eyebrow.

 

T’Challa had come with the expectation to hold mindless smalltalk with an eccentric billionaire and find out what he knew about their country under the ruse of a diplomatic talk. When exactly had he agreed to take care of an alien invasion?

  
  


“I am afraid there has been a mistake–” he started, but was cut off by a bright ping announcing the arrival of the elevator. 

 

A man with glasses stepped out, his eyes fixed on the ground as if in deep thought. He stopped short at the sight of the three of them, his gaze snapping up and hands fidgeting restlessly. "Ah. I'm sorry. I... kind of expected to be the first." He shuffled into the room and sat down a few chairs down from them, his shoulders tense and shifting his weight. "Um. My name's Bruce Banner."

 

The name sounded familiar, although T'Challa couldn't place it. "T'Challa," he offered, giving a curt nod. "This is Shuri, my sister, and Okoye, my Dora Milaje." Upon seeing Banner's brows knit up in confusion, T'Challa added, "The Dora Milaje are the royal family's personal guards."

 

"Natasha Romanoff," called a new voice from the end of the table, making T'Challa tense and Okoye draw her weapon. Somehow neither of them had noticed the red-haired woman –  Romanoff? – come in. 

 

As if on cue a ventilation shaft open up above them and a man dropped out, zooming in on the seat next to Romanoff immediately. "Clint Barton. Pleasure to meet you."

 

"... Likewise," T'Challa said, and laid a hand on Shuri's arm to calm her fidgeting. 

 

Yes, these people were odd. Yes, there were quite a few things that could be said about their (lacking) hospitality. No, this was not a good moment to point out either of those things. Luckily for T’Challa, Shuri got the hint.

 

With that out of the way, he made Okoye put away her weapon with a significantly stricter glare. She hesitated, but obeyed. 

 

Who were these people? JARVIS had mentioned the Avengers – the team that had allegedly taken out the alien army and stopped the invasion a few weeks back. Were they all part of the team? They didn't look like much – especially not Banner, who still wasn't meeting anyone's eyes – but T'Challa knew better than to judge people by their appearance.

 

He was not given much time to think. The next arrival was marked by an automatic door sliding open on the other side of the conference room, and before any of them had the time to react, Captain America in the flesh walked in. He carried his Vibranium shield on one side (Shuri tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Look! Isn’t that ours?” in Xhosa) and held the shoulder of who looked like a homeless person missing one arm on the other.

 

Both of them froze when they caught sight of the others. "Oh," Rogers said. "Sorry. I didn't know people were already arriving."

 

"Didn't you say that you wanted to come after finishing the tour?" Barton asked. "I thought Barnes didn't want to join?"

 

"Was the guest room we have prepared not to your liking, Sergeant?" JARVIS asked.

 

"... No," Rogers said when Barnes didn't speak up on his own. "That's not it." 

 

A beat passed in uncomfortable silence, until Barnes gently pushed away Rogers by his arm. "It's alright. I won't break because I'm spending some time on my own, Steve."

 

Rogers hesitated. "Alright. I'll bring you–”

 

"JARVIS can show me the way," Barnes interrupted, rather insistently. "See you later."

 

With that he disappeared into the elevator, and Rogers hesitantly sunk into one of the remaining chairs.

 

Considering who was currently sharing a room with the three of them, T'Challa was almost surprised when an ordinary looking, strawberry blonde woman entered the room like a regular person would. He changed his mind at the man who followed in her wake, long blond hair held back in a braid and carrying a hammer that fit to his armor-like clothing. He could have come straight out of a fantasy novel.

 

Just when T'Challa started to ask himself how many more peculiar people would be joining them, the door opened once more to reveal – finally – Tony Stark himself.

 

"–telling you, I've thought this through perfectly! Only because you can't follow my genius–”

  
  


"Genius? I've known you a long time, Tony, and this isn't you being smart, it’s you being reckless. At least let me–”

 

"I've got this Rhodey! Just, trust me. And if you insist–”

 

Romanoff pointedly cleared her throat, and both men fell silent. 

 

"Right," Stark said, "Looks like everybody's here. Well, let's get this show started!"

 

T'Challa didn't exactly know what to say to that. He felt Okoye's glare on his back, and leaned to the side when Shuri tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.

 

“This is the best vacation ever!” she whispered, and T'Challa felt the sudden urge to bury his head in his hands.

 

What in the world had he gotten himself into?

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [So. About the 'Badassium'.](http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/File:Badassium.jpg) Not actually made up, 100% canon :P
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, and visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	6. Chapter 6

Nebula counted herself lucky that she’d been half a galaxy away from Xandar when she had found out about her sister and her idiotic friends. She’d left in a hurry, fuming with anger and cursing her sister’s name in all the languages that she knew. Her and Quill. She just knew that Quill had to be at fault somehow.

 

Nebula cried out in frustration, kicking the control station in front of her. They’d ruined their plan! Didn’t they realize how useful an undercover agent would have been against Thanos? How much they could have achieved, if only Gamora had kept her cover?

 

So many opportunities, wasted. What had Gamora been thinking?! It just wasn’t like her.

 

Nebula paused. It hit her then – it  _ wasn’t  _ like Gamora. It wasn’t like her at all. 

 

Gamora was immensely more level-headed than she was. She wouldn’t ruin a well-thought out plan on a whim. Her teammates, perhaps. But Gamora would know better than to let a bunch of renegades come between her and a way to hurt Thanos, even if she happened to have befriended said bunch of renegades.

 

The only possible explanation could be that something had happened to blow her cover, and Gamora had had no choice but to flee. Yes – that must have been it. 

 

Well, out of every setback, there also arose possibilities. Perhaps they had lost one of their biggest trumps against Thanos, but at least it meant that Nebula did not have to pretend anymore. She was free to meet up with Gamora – and, annoyingly, her new found friends – and talk properly to her for the first time.

 

And that was exactly what she was going to do. Nebula leaned back in the cockpit, rechecked the course she had set for Xandar, and waited for the moment that the Milano would enter the range of her sensors.

 

* * *

 

The power stone felt heavy in Gamora’s pocket. After everything that had happened she wanted nothing more than to get rid of the blasted thing, to never lay hands on it again and to make sure that nobody – certainly not Thanos – would be able to touch it. And they would. As soon as they’d recovered and were ready to leave Xandar.

 

They’d all agreed how stupid it would be to hand over the stone to the Nova Corps earlier than that, with no guarantee whether they’d be allowed to leave afterwards. Saviors of the universe or not, all five of them were still considered criminals in their eyes. 

 

Well. All four of them.

 

Gamora threw a glance at Rocket and suppressed a sigh. A single branch was all he’d been able to salvage from Groot’s remains, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off of it ever since he’d planted it into a flower pot like it was ordinary wood, not part of his best friend’s corpse. Gamora wished they could convince him to get rid of it.

  
“Is there something I can bring you from the market?” she asked, at least wanting to make an effort. It was true that she didn’t know anything about Groot’s species or how their physiology worked, but this… This seemed desperate.

 

Rocket only a gave a grunt in response.

 

“Look, Rocket. Maybe it’s time to–”

 

Gamora didn’t get to finish the sentence. Peter burst into the room, holding something small in his hand and sporting a sheepish look that told Gamora he had done something she would not approve of.

 

“Um. Your communication thingy is making noises and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

 

As if on command, the device –  _ Gamora’s  _ device, why did Peter have it in the first place?! – let out a deep beeping noise. 

 

“Give me that,” she snapped, snatching it out of his hands roughly. The communicator was the one she’d gotten from Thanos, the one she should have gotten rid of the second she’d been certain about her defection.

 

One glance at the display made her freeze. She didn’t move, too stunned to react.

 

“Um. Gamora?” Peter asked. “You alright there?”

 

“It’s my sister,” Gamora said, disbelief in her voice. “She’s trying to contact me.”

 

That got even Rocket’s attention. “Your sister? What, is she another crazy assassin raised by your lunatic of a father?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Well, what does she want?” Peter asked.

 

“How should I know?!” Gamora hadn’t seen her sister since Thanos had pulled her off the assignment to capture her. He must have finally realized how pointless the training exercise had been, and allowed Nebula to stop pretending. Gamora still wasn’t sure what the whole point of it had been.

 

Instead, she’d been ordered to support Ronan. It had been pure luck that the task had led her close to an infinity stone – her chance to finally leave her life as one of Thanos’ tools behind. 

 

Getting to know the other Guardians, well. That had been an unexpected, but – as it turned out – surprisingly pleasant bonus. They were morons, the whole bunch of them. Not to mention insufferably annoying assholes with even more issues than bounties to their name. 

 

Needless to say, Gamora fit right in with them.

 

Besides, it felt nice to have backup for once in her life. Especially if her sister turned out to have come for a fight.

 

“Let’s find out,” Gamora said.

 

“And let her know where we are?!” Peter said. “Are you crazy?!”

 

“This thing only works within a range. If her signal is able to reach us, she’s already close. She knows where we are.”

 

“Well, that’s just wonderful.” Rocket crosses his arms with a scowl. “Only a few days after the whole Ronan mess, and now another psychopath is after our hide?”

 

“We don’t know that for sure,” Gamora said without conviction. Trying to guess Nebula’s motivation had been… frustrating, lately. She hesitated, then pushed a button on her communicator to accept the call. “... Nebula?”

 

“About damn time,” Nebula growled, and Gamora couldn’t help but to tense at hearing her voice. “I’ve almost reached Xandar. We can talk then.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened in alarm and Gamora shushed him with a glare before he could interrupt. There was no time for panic. “What are you doing here, Nebula? What do you want?”

 

“You found the power stone.” Nebula wasn’t asking. “I’m initiating the landing. I will meet you outside of the Nova Corp’s headquarters.” 

 

The call cut off, and there was silence.

 

“What the–” Peter started, and Gamora chimed in before he could finish.

 

“She’s here for the power stone. Thanos must have sent her.” She shared a grim look with her team. 

 

“Brilliant. Any ideas on how to get out of this?” Rocket said. Gamora couldn’t help but notice that it was the first time in days that his attention was not entirely aimed at the branch that was left of Groot. 

 

“You better know how to stop her,” Peter said. “You’re the only one who knows her.”

 

Gamora hesitated, her eyes settling on her sword. She hadn’t left it out of her reach once, unable to relax surrounded by an entire organization of people who not so subtly hated their guts.

 

“Get Drax,” she decided. “And grab your weapons. We’ll face her.”

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Rocket grumbled, but leaped from his seat nevertheless. He carefully, ever so gently tucked away Groot’s branch – safely out of sight – before he stalked out of the room, not without grabbing for one of his blasters on his way out. “Oi! Hey Drax! Get your ass out here. We’re fighting another psychopath.”

 

“Come on,” Gamora muttered, pretending not to see the pained look on Peter’s face. They could talk about it later. 

 

Most likely they wouldn’t.

 

There was only one plaza big enough for the (unauthorized) landing of a space vessel, and by the time they reached it, they could already see Nebula climbing out. The sight of her made something cold and jagged manifest in Gamora’s chest, old memories rising to the surface scathingly and sharp. Gamora’s grip around her weapons tightened.   
  
“Get ready,” she muttered, and stepped forth to face her sister. For once, her teammates didn’t argue.

 

“Where did you put the power stone?” Nebula asked instead of a greeting as soon as she was within earshot. She had always been direct, uncaring about etiquette or manners. Not that Gamora was much different. “It will serve us well on our quest.”

 

“If you haven’t realized yet,  _ Nebula _ , I don’t serve Thanos anymore.” The sword in her hand was a familiar weight. Her back was a tense line, all of her muscles prepared to leap into action. “And I will sooner die than let the stone fall into his hands.”

 

Gamora knew better than to let Nebula attack first. Without so much as throwing a glance at her teammates, she charged.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing, Gamora?!” Nebula blocked the first few blows out of pure instinct. Years of training, suffering and experience served her well; any other person would have had their throat slit with the first swing of her sword. 

 

But why was Gamora attacking her in the first place? “What are you playing at?!”

 

“As if you don’t know!” 

 

Another jab, and Nebula dodged just in time to prevent it from taking off her biological arm. It nicked the fabric of her sleeve instead. “What do you–?!” 

 

Realization hit her so sudden, Nebula barely managed not to freeze and be slain by her sister. Of course. She must have misunderstood, earlier.

 

Nebula had assumed that Gamora had lost her cover, that she hadn’t had a choice but to flee and decided to focus her attention on the power stone, now that she no longer had to follow Thanos’ orders. But Nebula had gotten it all wrong. Gamora  _ was  _ still undercover. She must have manipulated Thanos into sending her on a ruse mission with the Guardians. 

 

Nebula was impressed. She could have never pulled off acting as a double agent as effortlessly and convincingly as Gamora did. After getting her hands on the power stone, Gamora must have been betting on Nebula to connect the dots. She wanted her to “steal” the stone in front of witnesses so that Gamora could keep her position as a double agent without having to deliver it to Thanos.

 

She was smart. She was really, really smart. To think that Nebula had almost blown it with her hotheadedness. Of course she would play along.

 

“Fine,” Nebula snarled, pushing blood lust into the word. She had to make this convincing. “I will end you, Gamora!” 

 

The scathing glare Gamora gave her in response was so convincing, Nebula felt reluctant admiration. Her sister was good. “You can try.”

 

Nebula pretended like they were back on one of their training decks, sparring under Thanos’ watchful eyes and with one of Nebula’s limbs at play. She charged.

 

* * *

 

“I will  _ end  _ you, Gamora,” Nebula groaned, her head rolling back against her seat listlessly now that she no longer needed to shake off her far too stubborn pursuers. 

 

Keeping the fight – and the subsequent chase – realistic was one thing, but this? Nebula scowled at her left arm as it hung limply at her side, only held together by a few wires. Useless. As if her escape wouldn’t have been difficult enough with two arms. Nebula could somewhat forgive herself for letting Gamora land a lucky hit, seeing as she not only had had to fend off her, but also three of her annoying friends.

 

Nebula threw a scathing glare to the silver orb she had carelessly thrown in the passenger seat. “This is all your fault.” 

 

The power stone did not answer, and Nebula let out another groan. The pain receptors of her cybernetic arm were still working, and would continue to set her limb on fire until she managed to repair it. With only minimal resources and materials, and the ever present threat of either Thanos, her sister or bounty hunters catching up to her. How wonderful.

 

At least this time, Nebula already knew her next destination. No more of the pointless, tedious process of information gathering.

 

That was… Nebula paused. Originally, she had planned to set course to Terra as soon as she could get her hands on the power stone. She had no way to obtain the soul stone as well, and as far as she knew most, if not all of the remaining infinity stones were on Terra. As was Stark.

 

Then again, perhaps there was one more thing Nebula could take care off.

 

Ignoring the sparks of her cybernetic limb on her left and the power stone lying on her right, Nebula punched in the coordinates she could only hope she remembered correctly. 

 

* * *

 

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Gamora?!” Gamora finished tying the bandage around Peter’s leg harsher than what was strictly necessary. “Ouch! What was that for?!”

 

“Don’t make it sound like this was my fault.”

 

“It’s your sister, so it’s your problem.” Rocket scowled, spraying disinfectant on a couple of Gamora’s cuts. It stung.

 

She snatched the bottle away from him. “It’s  _ our _ problem now. So suck it up and set our course. We have to follow her while her trail is still fresh.”

 

“Whatever. Remind me again why I gave this whole team thing a go?” Rocket kept grumbling under his breath, even as he entered the cockpit to follow Gamora’s instructions. 

 

They’d already left Xandar behind, having snatched up their stuff in a hurry after the fight was over, just in time before members of the Nova Corps had tried to take them in. As if anything of what had happened had been their fault.

 

Certainly not the broken fountain. Or the collapsed building.

 

“Do you want to get the stone back or not?” Gamora yelled after Rocket, just in case he changed his mind halfway through. 

 

“Yeah, yeah! I got it.”

 

“Your sister is truly as violent and feral as her upbringing suggests.”

 

“Thanks, Drax,” Gamora said.

 

Drax paused at her dry tone. “That is not to say you are like her. Although you are, as well, one of the deadliest and most ferocious people I know.”

 

“Yeah well, at least Gamora doesn’t have those freaky arm thingies,” Peter said. “Did you see the way it bended back into shape after Rocket fired a blast at it? Gross!”

 

“They’re cybernetic enhancements,” Gamora corrected. “And it’s not just her arm. It’s her whole body.”

 

Peter shuddered. “Freaky.”

 

“Thanos gave them to her,” Gamora said. Her tone had grown quiet. “Every time I would beat her in battle, he would modify her body to make her stronger. And I would win again. And again. And again.”

 

There was silence.

 

“Sounds like some childhood,” Peter muttered.

 

It took Gamora aback how disturbed he sounded. Thinking back, it must have been quite cruel, although she had never seen it as such. It had simply been their reality, another obstacle to clear in order to survive another day.

 

“Yeah,” she said. “I suppose it was.”

 

“If you’re done with your little heart to heart back there,” Rocket yelled from the front, “I’m gonna speed up the engines soon. If you’re not buckled up by then, I’m not scrapping you off the windshield.”

 

They sat in silence for another moment. 

 

“Alright.” Gamora stood, offering Peter a hand and pulling him to his feet. He’d suffered a leg injury during their fight, painful, but not major. 

 

Next to them, Drax had already secured Groot’s branch.

 

“Let’s hunt down Nebula and get the power stone back.” There was no way she was letting it fall into Thanos’ hands. Nebula could deliver it to him over Gamora’s cold, dead body.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursing school is kicking my ass right now. I'm frantically posting this minutes before heading off to my next shift. 
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, and visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	7. Chapter 7

Considering he’d had to dodge confrontations left and right since coming back, Tony was somewhat surprised he’d managed to keep the others off his back as long as he had. The trick, once he could tell that one of them was about to ask uncomfortable questions, was to drop another bomb before they could do so.

 

Natasha walked towards him with just a bit too much purpose and an expression that would make stone look expressive? Lucky then that Tony had just the news about her HYDRA-infested employers to distract her.

 

Bruce’s silence was more pronounced than usual, and he looked at Tony in that guarded, careful way that suggested he was about to breach a delicate topic? Tony dragged him off into the lab to work on their containment unit for the mind stone. They didn’t want to risk blowing up the tower because they slacked off, now did they?

 

Steve tracked him down after bringing home Bucky, his brows set in a stubborn line that demanded answers? Oh, hadn’t he heard? Tony had exactly the treatment he needed to fix the jigsaw puzzle that was his bestie’s mental state.

 

And, surprisingly, it had worked for the past several weeks. Enough time for Tony to gather at least some of the key players in the tower for one big debriefing. They wanted answers? Well, they’d get them – minus the whole Tony being secretly a time traveller bit, obviously.

 

All of the original Avengers were already together, as well as Bucky – although he wasn’t exactly in a state to participate just yet. Pepper and Rhodey were there, naturally, and while he hadn’t convinced Hope Pym to make an appearance herself, she had at least agreed to take a look at the transcript after the meeting was over. 

 

The biggest – but pleasant – surprise was that T’Challa had come. After relistening to that very first phone call, Tony had admittedly had his doubts.

 

He’d had less luck with some of the others. Like Strange, who probably thought he was mental after accusing him of sorcery before he had actually gotten his powers. Or Falcon, who had straight up hung up the call when Tony’d tried to invite him. (He would just send Cap over to do it for him.)

 

Oh well. He would get the rest of them together eventually. For now, there was some catching up to do.

 

“Alright,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily as the room was already dead silent. “Let’s get this started.” 

 

His eyes fell on the ten year old girl in their midst. “Erm.” He may have possibly failed to think this through entirely. “Right. Princess Shuri, did you have a look around the tower yet?”

 

“Not yet,” Shuri said, carefully pronouncing each word. “JARVIS brought us here right after we landed.”

 

“So you’ve met JARVIS?”

 

Her mouth broke into a grin. “He is amazing! We talked to him in the elevator.”

 

Tony matched her grin. JARVIS  _ was _ pretty amazing. 

 

“The pleasure was mine, Princess,” JARVIS said.

 

“Great,” Tony said. “Okay. You’re welcome to chat some more with JARVIS upstairs, if you’d like. Unless you insist to stay with your brother, in that case–”

 

Shuri was already on her way to the elevator. “Can you tell me more about you, JARVIS?”

 

“Certainly, Princess. It would be my pleasure.”

 

Okoye took a step to follow her, but paused at T’Challa’s alarmed voice. “Okoye–”

 

“Yes, your Highness?” Okoye said, her expression stoic and professional. Some sort of silent communication seemed to pass between them.

 

“... Nothing,” T’Challa said. “Take care of her.”

 

“Of course, Highness.” Okoye nodded somewhat stiffly and followed Shuri into the elevator. Then they were gone.

 

“Okay,” Tony said, again. “So. There’s a lot to catch up on and we’re already behind, so try to keep up and raise your hand if I’ve lost you. Let’s go.”

 

After all, there was about a decade’s worth of issues and problems they had to catch up on – or, alternatively, get ahead of. They weren’t about to be caught unprepared a second time if Tony could help it.

 

* * *

 

T'Challa was lost within the first five minutes. He did not, however, raise his hand like a child who struggled to follow the day's lesson at pre-school. He kept his face stoic and his expression calm even after Okoye had left him behind in a situation that he absolutely had not consented to. 

 

The others must have been clued in, because none of them showed even a hint of the confusion T'Challa felt. It was just another reason to hide his lack of knowledge. He would not disgrace his father by appearing as a bumbling fool who did not know what he was doing.

  
Stark was still talking.   
  
"–upstairs now, but we've already interrogated him once. We'll ask more questions when they come up, right now he's the only source we have that’s directly linked to the enemy."   
  
T'Challa mentally rewound the past few minutes of Stark's monologue. "You are talking about Loki," he said, hoping that he had misheard. "The man who lead the invasion to conquer the Earth a few weeks ago. And he is here. In the tower."   
  
"Well, duh," Stark said. "We can't exactly keep him in a regular prison, can we? Where else to keep an eye on him than the home of half a dozen superheroes?"   
  
Well, if he put it like that. T'Challa looked around the table and found no protest, which had to mean that everybody else had already known. Or else saw no reason for concern.    
  
He gave a hesitant nod. "Of course. Please proceed."   
  
T'Challa reminded himself that these were the people who had defeated Loki in the first place. They had to know what they were doing.

 

* * *

 

Steve did not know what he was doing.    
  
The 21st century was very much a double edged sword. It brought him things like robots, the internet and medicine for diseases that had been untreatable in his time.   
  
Other times, he sat in a room with Tony Stark and listened to sentences like "We managed to fend off the first alien invasion only barely. We have to make sure that we’re prepared by the time the next one rolls up.”    
  
The next one. Like it wasn't a hunch, or even a likely prediction, but a  _ fact  _ that the next alien army was waiting around the corner. Was this what the 21st century was like? The eradication of smallpox in exchange for the ever looming threat of an alien invasion on Earth?    
  
A glance towards his fellow Avengers suggested that yes, this was, indeed, a completely natural occurrence. None of them looked disturbed or even surprised at any of what Tony was saying. And yes, Tony had encouraged them to ask questions at the beginning, but everybody else could follow the conversation easily. The smart choice for Steve was to sit it out and not disrupt the meeting with his lack of context.   
  
"Just to be clear, this doesn’t mean we’re ditching our missions to clear out HYDRA bases. We still have a pair of potentially traumatized and superpowered kids to pick up."   
  
Steve desperately tried to keep the neutral expression on his face. He found comfort in the fact that if Tony said something truly concerning – concerning for  _ their  _ standards – the other Avengers would be there to call him out on it in his stead.

 

* * *

 

Clint threw a subtle glance at Natasha for the sixth time in half as many minutes. Her answer was the same as the five times before it: an almost imperceptible glare that roughly translated to “Stay professional and keep your face blank, or so help me I will come over there and strangle you.”

 

Clint was paraphrasing.

 

A few feet away from them, Tony Stark was dropping more intel on HYDRA – and, as a result, SHIELD; hadn’t that been just a pleasure to learn about? – than they assumed even Nick Fury would be capable of.

 

Since the alternative was Fury being an infiltrator rather than one of the agents being run over by them, this once Clint prayed to everything that meant something to him that his boss had been oblivious. That all of his colleagues had, the few that he genuinely trusted and cared about. 

 

“Fury’s been quiet so far,” Tony said as if he had read Clint’s thoughts. “I thought he’d want to stick his nose into this whole mess for sure.”

  
"Fury has more important things to worry about," Natasha said, managing to keep a straight face while lying through her teeth. "That's why we’re here."   
  
Yes, that's what they were here for: to keep an eye on Tony while sprouting Oscar-worthy bullshit that made them sound superior and like they knew exactly what was going on. All of it to distract from the fact that Fury was frantically trying to clean up after the mess that was half of his organization turning out to be neo-nazis. 

 

They couldn’t let anyone find out just how badly all of them had been shaken up. So, if that meant Natasha and Clint had to listen to rants about aliens, magical rocks and space dictators while keeping a straight face? Well, that was just what their lives had become.   
  


* * *

 

Bruce should have stayed in India. He'd always known that leaving behind his self-induced isolation would mean trouble, and being dragged back to the States in time for an alien invasion and – apparently – the next one on its way? Yeah, that just proved his point marvellously.   
  
Bruce wondered if anybody would seriously try to stop him from going back. Going by what sounded like a minimum of five potential worldwide catastrophes that Tony was spelling out for them, people had to be far too busy to waste a thought on him.   
  
"Oh, and before I forget. Bruce, remind me to let you look over the statement I'm gonna release to the press. It’s about time we’re getting Ross fired."   
  
Tony had almost moved on by the time Bruce's brain had caught up to what he had just said. "Wait. What was that?"   
  
"Hmm? Oh yeah, I've been digging up dirt on him and leaking it all over the internet. We could wait for it to become public, but I'd rather speed it all up. No clue how he still has his job, but it's not gonna be for much longer if I've got anything to say about it."    
  
Bruce leaned back in his seat, stunned. For Tony, apparently, that spelled the end of that topic. He went on to continue the briefing like he hadn't just revealed that he'd been working on dethroning the man who had made Bruce's life a living hell for more than a decade.    
  
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to stay with Tony, even if it meant having to deal with all of the baggage that came with it. Even if that baggage came in the form of an alien army, or several.

 

* * *

 

Roughly two hours later, Tony marched out of the conference room feeling light and surprisingly content. The meeting had gone a lot more smoothly than he had dared to hope. He’d prepared himself for disbelief, for panic and perhaps even hostility. He'd tried and failed to get himself and his team ready for the nearing threat once already, and he’d had no reason to believe that a few years headstart and more knowledge would make a difference in getting them on his side.   
  
But now? He'd spilled most of the information that he had – the basics of it, at least – and there'd been no freak outs, no irrelevant questions or accusations. Tony must have underestimated his team. Everybody was focused on what needed to be done, they finally had a common goal to work towards!   
  
Tony could work with this. He hadn't expected everybody to be doing so well, but who was he to question it? At the rate things were going, they'd be a force to be reckoned with by the time Thanos dared to show his ugly mug again.   
  


* * *

 

As complex as JARVIS' existence seemed to an outsider, technically speaking his programming was rather simple. As a learning program he had been created to observe and interact with his surroundings, draw logical conclusions from his findings and evolve from them.   
  
As such, drawing from the data he had collected over the span of a few weeks, JARVIS had concluded that his creator had told him the truth. Tony Stark was, in fact, a time traveller, rather than in need of an extended visit in a mental institution.   
  
It was highly improbable for anybody without his near limitless insight in Mr. Stark's personal life to come to the same conclusion. Therefore, JARVIS' expectations were proven right when none of his guests seemed to quite know what to do after Mr. Stark had left the conference room.   
  
Two notable exceptions were Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts, who hurried after Mr. Stark as soon as he had left the room himself. JARVIS followed their progress through the tower, while also keeping an eye on the group settled in the conference room.   
  
None of them spoke for exactly 1.32 minutes.   
  
"... So," Captain Rogers said, exchanging neutral looks around the table. "That was... informative."   
  
"Indeed," Prince T'Challa said, clearing his throat. "Quite... eye-opening."   
  
There was a pause.    
  
Agent Barton deliberately looked at Rogers. "It wasn't too quick for you, was it–”

  
"What?" Rogers said. "No, of course not!"   
  
"–too little context, maybe a bit much for–”

  
"Oh, you wouldn't believe the kind of things I've seen in my days."

  
"Nor I on Asgard," Thor said.

  
"Or in Wakanda," T'Challa added.   
  
There was a pause.   
  
"Right," Steve said. "I suppose if we're all on the same page–” 

  
"We are," Natasha said.   
  
"Definitely," Clint said. "All caught up."   
  
"–I guess we'll see each other... soon."   
  
"Right."   
  
"Hmm."   
  
There was a pause.   
  
"I gotta–” 

  
"My sister will be–” 

  
"–waiting, so I should–” 

  
“–have to report to SHIELD."   
  
All of them proceeded to leave the room in various states of urgency.

 

JARVIS processed the recorded data in order to determine his next course of action. Mr. Stark’s guests were clearly missing a massive amount of context, but unwilling to expose themselves to each other. It could prove beneficial to inform Mr. Stark of the fact.

 

Previous experiences contradicted this. JARVIS reviewed the relevant footage.

 

_ "Sir, are you aware that Sergeant Barnes–” _

 

_ "Yup. Already on it."  _

 

_ "Sir, I feel like you should know that Director Fury has been–” _

 

_ "Already do. Thanks, bud." _

 

_ "Sir, it would appear that–”  _

 

_ "Got it. No worry, J." _

 

JARVIS was programmed to be useful, not to point out information that Mr. Stark already possessed. 

 

He concluded that the probability of Mr. Stark knowing was higher than him being oblivious. As such, JARVIS decided to stay silent unless asked otherwise, or unless Mr. Stark’s potential lack of knowledge became a genuine threat.

 

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cries at the last minute change in the hospital schedule.**
> 
>  
> 
> I am not, in fact, lying in my bed at home as I should be. I am, instead, lying in my bed at the dorms about to fall asleep after another shift. And there's three more to go before I can go home for real. Oh joy. :[
> 
> Cheer me up with a comment? Pretty please?
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	8. Chapter 8

Nebula shut down the engines as soon as Ego’s planet was within sight. The journey hadn't been short, but now that she had arrived she found that something was holding her back. It wasn't fear. Nebula did not fear for her life. With the power stone in her possession, only few things in the universe were a genuine threat.

 

Perhaps it was Mantis. Out of all of the Guardians, she had been the least insufferable, and killing Ego while Mantis was still with him would almost definitely result in her death. That was easily fixed. Nebula could just make a detour to the planet's surface and pick her up before blowing it to smithereens. 

 

And yet, it still didn't feel right.

 

Nebula growled, cursing her stupid, useless sentimentalities. Wonderful. If she'd known that the “hero” morality complex was contagious, she would have stayed far, far away from all of them. 

 

Whatever. She punched the buttons on her console that would let her establish a video link with the Milano. She would clear her treacherous conscience by warning Quill, rather than kill Ego right away. 

 

If nothing else, he and the rest of the Guardians could serve as a distraction for Ego to shoot at while she took care of the rest.

 

* * *

 

“How does she keep contacting us?!” Peter yelled, scowling at the console as it announced an incoming call.

 

Gamora shouted back from the other side of the cockpit. “I don’t know, okay?!” 

 

“Forget the how.” Rocket scowled, bowed over the controls for their sensors. “Better question is why she’s doing it. She knows we’re after her hide, so why would she announce herself like this?”

 

“Who knows what goes on in her head,” Peter said, “she’s crazy. No offense, Gamora.”

 

Gamora ignored him. “What are you waiting for? Accept the call already.”

 

“Really? We’re still doing this? Why do we keep talking to her when we should be chasing her instead?”

 

“We still are,” Gamora said, frowning. “Would you rather she show up without a warning next time?”

 

Peter grumbled under his breath, but opened their communication channel.

 

Surprisingly, Nebula did not open with an insult and/or complaint about how long it had taken them to answer. She did nothing besides shift awkwardly in front of the camera, avoiding to look directly into it.

 

"Nebula," Gamora said when the silence had gone on long enough. She saw Peter and Rocket exchanging uneasy looks further in the back. "What do you want?"

 

"... There is something I need to tell you."

 

"Okay," Gamora said, frowning. "Spit it out."

 

"Not you. Quill."

 

Gamora blinked. She looked behind her, meeting Peter's stunned expression. When he didn't move, she whispered, "What are you waiting for?"

 

"What?!" he whispered back – if one could call what he was doing 'whispering'. "I don't want to talk to her!"

 

"Rocket might be able to track her if you stall her for long enough!"

 

"What am I even supposed to say? What could she possibly want from me?"

 

"Just get over there!"

 

She grabbed Peter’s jacket before he could complain and hauled him in front of the monitor. He struggled, but couldn't compete against Gamora's strength.

 

"H-Hey, Nebula! You look... healthy? A lot less psychotic than usual. Um. So... Slit anyone's throat lately?"

 

Gamora resisted the urge to groan. Nebula, in a similar fashion, ignored Peter's words entirely. 

 

"Listen, Quill. I am only going to tell you once." She paused, her lips curling as if she wasn't sure how to put the sentence into words. "Sometimes... you have to kill the person who is your father. Because he is insane. And plans to destroy large parts of the known universe."

 

Gamora blinked. Peter did, too, his nose scrunched up in disbelief. “Um. What.”

 

“You heard me,” Nebula said, still glowering into the camera. “I mean.” She growled, then closed her eyes as if trying to calm herself. “I meant to say, that there is no shame in that. He deserves to die, and you should not feel conflicted about pursuing that goal.”

 

“Right,” Peter said, staring at the monitor. “Okay. What are we talking about, again?”

 

“Just get over here,” she snapped, and the computer let out a beep as it displayed a set of coordinates. “I will see you there.”

 

The call cut off, and the cockpit fell silent.

 

“What the fuck,” Peter said, perfectly putting into words what all of them must have been thinking.

 

“It’s a trap,” Gamora said.

 

“Well, obviously! But what did she mean? Someone’s insane father? Planning to destroy large parts of the universe? She must have been talking about Thanos. What do I have to do with your crazy adoptive titan father?”

 

“Maybe she wasn’t talking about him,” Rocket said. “Isn’t your dad a criminal?”

 

“Yondu isn’t my dad! And he’s not crazy.” Peter paused. “Well. Maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure he’s not planning to destroy the universe.”

 

Drax looked at Peter gravely. “Perhaps you have not known your father as well as you thought.”

 

“He’s not my dad! Besides, I would have noticed him wanting to destroy the universe. Wouldn't I?"

 

"Who else could she have meant?" Nebula had been ridiculously specific. An insane father figure planning to cause destruction and suffering throughout the universe? Who else could she have meant but Thanos?

 

"Perhaps it was a metaphor," Drax said.

 

Multiple incredulous glances swayed his way.

 

"A metaphor for  _ what _ ?" Rocket said.

 

"Does it matter?" Gamora asked. "We know where she is. It is most likely a trap, yes, but is that enough to stop us? It might be weeks until we get another chance."

 

"I don't know why you're so obsessed trying to make sense of her, anyway," Rocket muttered, putting the coordinates into their ship's navigation system. "She's crazy, so why bother?"

 

* * *

 

Ego awaited Nebula as soon as her ship touched the surface of his planet. Most likely he had seen (sensed?) her coming before she had even breached the atmosphere. Mantis stood behind him anxiously and quiet, the perfect servant for the maniac who had raised her. 

 

"Who are you?" Ego asked as she stepped out of her ship. "How have you found this planet?"

 

"I have been looking for you," Nebula said, opting to tell truths and half-truths rather than outright lie.

 

"You know me?" Ego said, sounding almost bored. Like no mere mortal could hold his attention. Arrogant moron, thinking himself above everyone else.

 

"As much as I need to know. More importantly, I know Yondu."

 

Ego's expression changed instantly. "Are you part of his crew?" he asked, his body tense like he was prepared to slaughter Nebula if her answer did not please him. Behind him, Mantis cowered in fear.

 

"I'm not," Nebula said. "But I know what he has done. His task was to deliver you your son, and instead he kept him for himself. I assure you that he has paid dearly for his crime." In fact, he had died for it. In another reality, where Ego had soon followed.

 

Ego stiffened. "And what about my son? Was he with the traitor this whole time?"

 

"He was. But he is on his way, in his own spaceship. Check the perimeter around the planet, he should be close enough for your sensors to pick up."

 

A pause. Ego's expression was carefully neutral, and Nebula didn't doubt that she would die the second Ego figured out her plan. "If what you say is true, you have done me a great deed." It went unspoken what would happen otherwise.

 

"See for yourself. If he is not within range yet, he will be soon."

 

Ego nodded. "Mantis. Please show our... guest, to our home."

 

"As you wish," Mantis said, her obedient bow overlooked as Ego strode away without waiting for them to follow. 

 

There was not much time.

 

"Mantis," Nebula said, planting her feet and forcing Mantis to come to a halt as well. "There is something you need to know. There is not much time."

 

Mantis looked at her with wide, confused eyes. "Not much time? For what?”

 

"Use your powers on me," Nebula said. "To determine that I am speaking the truth. Quick."

 

"My– My powers?"

 

"Quick!" Nebula snapped, and ignored the way Mantis flinched. She would thank her for it later.

 

Her antennas lit up as Mantis took Nebula's hand. Her eyes fell closed. "You feel... determination. And anger. Hatred. So much hatred, constantly. Against..." She tensed, her brows knitting up in a frown. Her voice lowered into a whisper. "Against Ego. Why have you come?"

 

"I am here to kill him," Nebula said, and grasped Mantis' hand tighter when she tried to snatch it away with a gasp.

 

"You– You want to–”

 

"You need to stay calm."

 

"You are planning to–”

 

"Stay. Calm."

 

"But you can't!" Mantis shook her head frantically, straining against Nebula's grip. "Ego is too strong!"

 

"Mantis!" Nebula snapped. "You need to calm down!" She should have just knocked her out and taken her on her ship while she was unconscious. 

 

"You don't understand!" Mantis no longer struggled to be released. "Ego  _ is  _ this planet. He knows everything that happens on it. He will already know that you lied! He will be on his way!"

 

Nebula let out a growl. The chattering grated on her nerves. "I know. I know he's strong, and I know that he can be beaten." She paused, and for once Mantis didn't try to disagree. Her grip around Nebula's hand was tight enough to hurt. "Besides, I didn't lie. Backup is coming."

 

* * *

 

"I freaking told you it was a trap!" Rocket screamed, swaying sideways and preventing their ship from being shot out of the sky. "And who didn’t listen?! All of you clowns, that’s who!"

 

"We all knew it was a trap!" Gamora yelled back. She clutched her seat so she wouldn't be hurled out of it. "We all agreed to go anyway. Stop moping and keep dodging!"

 

"It's coming from the planet," Peter interrupted. He grunted as the Milano shook from an impact. "It's not from another ship."

 

"If it's not Nebula, why are they shooting?!"

 

Static crackled through the air as their monitor flipped on. Before any of them could react, a voice flickered out of it, deep and menacing. "Did you honestly think your little trick would fool me?"

 

"What the–”

 

"Your accomplice is about to die. A fool’s plan, sending her ahead to try and deceive me.” The voice paused. “I don't know how you knew about Yondu, or what he was tasked to do for me. But you will pay for the lie." The monitor shut off as sudden as it had turned on, leaving them none the wiser.

 

"What is going on?!" Peter said, just before the attacks on their ship doubled and they no longer had the time to wonder.

 

* * *

 

When they miraculously managed to land their ship without being blasted into a million pieces, it was to find Nebula fighting off a monstrous parody of a human being. As they watched, the part of his (?) body that was hit by Nebula's blasters melted away into pure light and reformed layer by layer, bones, organs and muscle tissue open for them to see. 

 

"What the hell is that?!" Peter yelled, eyes wide and horrified, giving away their position.

 

"What took you so long?!" Nebula shouted at the same time that the creature froze. He turned, his eyes zooming in on Peter. By now he looked like a regular man, but it was too late. They’d all seen that he was anything but.

 

"No," he muttered. "That power..."

 

"What are you standing there for?!" Nebula shouted. "Attack him already!"

 

The creature ignored her. "Peter... Is that you? It must be. I thought she was lying, but you’re here! Yondu has kept us apart for too long. Now that you have arrived, our time has come!”

 

Peter took a step back. Gamora couldn’t blame him; in his place, she would have been freaked out, too. "How do you know my name? Guys, why does the creepy fake human know my name?"

 

The creepy fake human took a step towards them, but stopped when all of them pointed their weapons at him simultaneously. "How could I not know your name? You’re mine!”

 

“Woah, Mister,” Peter said, tense and subconsciously stepping closer to Gamora. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, and quite frankly, I don’t–”

 

“I’m your father,” the creature interrupted. “Peter. You’re home.”

 

Gamora took in a sharp breath. Her eyes flickered towards Peter, who'd gone rigid at the revelation. 

 

"My– You're not– What?"

 

"My name is Ego," the creature said. "And your mother's name was Meredith. She was Terra’s most beautiful flower. My river lily.”

 

Gamora's hand twitched around the handle of her sword. "Peter. Peter, what do we do?"

 

Peter's eyes stayed glued to Ego. "He knows my mom’s name. How can he know her name?"

 

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I've waited so long for this moment," Ego said. "Join me, like you should have done years ago. Stand with me, side by side, father and son."

 

"Peter!" Gamora called. "What do we do?!"

 

"They're all beneath us," Ego continued. "You're a Celestial, you're so much more! Come with me, and I can show you what your heritage means."

 

"My heritage," Peter said, and to Gamora's alarm, she heard something akin to longing in his voice. The dazed look vanished from his eyes as quickly as it had come. "Wait. 'Beneath us'? What do you mean, 'beneath us'?"

 

"Nevermind that," Ego said. "It will all make sense if you just let me–”

 

“Are you listening to him?!” Nebula screamed, disbelief heavy in her voice. “He is the enemy! He conquers planets to fulfill his god complex!”

 

Drax pointed an accusing finger on Ego. “So he is the one who is insane and plans to destroy large parts of the known universe! I understand the metaphor now!”

 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ego said. “The Expansion isn’t destruction. It is a new beginning.”

 

"No way," Peter said, his disbelief slowly blooming into horror. "She's right."

 

"Peter–”

 

"Nebula is right." Peter's expression crumbled, and Gamora was sickeningly glad for it. "My dad is a maniac."

 

Ego dropped his ecstatic facade and revealed the fury underneath. "Careful, boy."

 

"Are you done now?!" Nebula yelled. “Fight him already! And don’t let down your guard. This planet is all him.”

 

"I've just about had it with you, insect," Ego snapped. One hand gesture and a massive, glowing vine shot out of the earth, lurching for Nebula.

 

"I've seen enough," Peter screamed, and fired the first blast towards Ego. The rest of them followed, drew their weapons and charged.

 

* * *

 

"What are you doing?! Stop messing around and aim for his head! For his head!"

 

"I already did! He regrew his freaking head!"

 

"Let's try– Woah! Careful where you're waving that thing around! Let's try his heart? Does he even have a heart?" 

 

"Rocket! Rocket, get over here! Do you still have your grenades?"

 

"What do you want me to do with them?! Quill blasted his head off and it grew right back!"

 

"I know, but maybe if we–”

 

"What the–! Is he moving the ground right now?!"

 

"Didn't Nebula say something about him controlling the planet?"

 

“She said he  _ is  _ the planet."

 

"Great. I'm finally getting to know my dad and it turns out that he's not even an alien, he's a freaking planet!  _ Woah! _ And trying to kill us!"

 

“Turns out that Gamora’s family isn’t the only one that’s completely nuts.”

 

"... Hey. Where  _ is _ Nebula?"

 

"..."

 

"..."

 

"I hate your sister so much."

 

* * *

 

"Why have we fled?" Mantis asked, trailing after Nebula into her spaceship. "Your friends, they will die if they stay!"

 

"It's fine," Nebula said distractedly, already reaching for the orb that contained the power stone.

 

"It is... fine? But your friends–”

 

"They're not my friends. And I have this," Nebula said, holding out the orb. "Even Ego will not survive if his planet is obliterated."

 

"But your f–” Mantis cut herself off. "But the others. What about them?"

 

"I will send my sister a message. They will have two minutes to leave the planet before I will blow it to pieces." Two minutes was plenty of time. They would be fine. Probably.

 

"How does it work?" Mantis asked.

 

Nebula opened her mouth to answer. Then she froze. Oh no.

 

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

 

"... I need a weapon to fuse it with," Nebula said, her mind racing. The spaceship? Useless. No weaponry, a pure transport vessel. Any of the weapons aboard? A sword wouldn't work. Neither would daggers. Nebula needed something to shoot with.

 

"Ego will notice that we have left," Mantis whispered, her eyes fixed on the planet before them. "There will be no escape."

 

Nebula barely listened. There had to be something, something on board, something she could use.

 

She paused and looked at the silvery orb in her hand. Perhaps...

 

"Mantis," she said, "what I am about to do will either gain us victory or burn my body to ash. Listen carefully."

 

* * *

 

Even with the girl's warning (Mantis, or whatever she was called) – graciously delivered in the middle of their battle and not at all distracting, thank you very much – Gamora and her team almost didn't make it off the planet before a purple energy beam hit its surface, burned through to its very core and made it fall apart within seconds. 

 

"I can't believe she tried to kill us. Again!" Peter said, tossing away his weapons and sinking into the nearest chair like he didn't plan to get up within the next few hours. 

 

Gamora pulled out Groot from his secure place in one of their storage units, which left Rocket to set their ship’s course. Drax was already snoring, having dropped as soon as they'd taken off from Ego's remains.

 

"I can't believe you're still surprised," Rocket said, heading towards the console after quickly checking on Groot. He'd slept through the entire thing, and if they could believe Rocket's words, it wouldn't be much longer until he would leave his pot. "I also can't believe we fell for it. Again. Played right into her hands and almost let her blow us up, some Guardians we are."

 

"Aren't we gonna talk about her figuring out how to use the power stone?" Peter asked. "Cause I don't know about you, but I think that's kind of worth talking about. And maybe panicking."

 

"She didn't lure us, she used us as bait. Tried to wipe out two enemies at once, why did we answer her call in the first place?"

 

"Ronan was bad enough, but what's Nebula gonna do with the stone? Even worse if she manages to bring it to Thanos–”

 

"Be quiet, both of you!" Gamora hissed. The only reason she wasn’t yelling was Groot still sleeping in her lap.

 

"Oh yeah? I'm not seeing you make any suggestions."

 

"Lock onto her energy signature. Set our course to follow her trail. She's not getting another chance to finish the job, because we'll hunt her down before it happens." 

 

Gamora'd had enough. Her sister wouldn't flaunt her new found power in her face any longer, and she most definitely wouldn't manage to bring it to Thanos. Gamora had lost enough at the hands of her father, and she would not let her sister take the power to destroy what she had left.

 

* * *

 

Nebula could not take her eyes off of her cybernetic arm. The foreign power flowed through it like it belonged to her, coursed through machinery and seeped into her body from there. It buzzed with power, the purple energy merging with her rather than threatening to tear her body appart. Ego had never stood a chance.

 

"Where will we go now?" Mantis asked, tucked away in the seat next to Nebula like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. 

 

"A friend," Nebula said, and paused. Her arm hummed with the power of the infinity stone. "Perhaps we will have one more destination."

 

Because while she couldn't take it from Vormir, even the soul stone would not survive the full might of its sister.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today! :D Make me a present in form of a double length comment? :P 
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	9. Chapter 9

“Sir,” JARVIS said, dragging Tony out of his thoughts right after he’d managed to shake off Rhodey and Pepper. “Your presence is required in the common area.”

 

That sentence had no right sounding as ominous as it did. With Loki inhabiting the same building, it had sadly become somewhat of a routine.

 

“JARVIS, please tell me that  _ somebody  _ didn’t start a fight while I was gone.” 

 

“Not yet, Sir. Mr. Odinson seems to have started a conversation with Princess Shuri.”

 

That sentences managed to be the exact opposite of reassuring. Tony was almost running by the time he reached the common room and heard Shuri’s voice carry through the doorway. “So, the blond man, Thor. He is your brother?”

 

Tony froze. If there was one topic that should never, ever be breached in front of Loki, it was his family. (And how anyone could have a family as dysfunctional and weird as those two… Well, Norse Mythology was  _ like that _ for a reason.) The few times that Tony had tried, he’d almost paid for it with another attempt at forceful defenestration.

 

So, if his guest of roughly ten years was about to fall victim to the same pitfall? One could say that it made Tony somewhat alarmed. He practically sprinted into the room, sliding over the sleek floor and barely catching himself on a nearby counter, ready to blast Loki himself in case his Iron Guard didn’t– 

 

Huh. Or not.

 

“It is complicated,” Loki said, sprawled in a nearby chair and not sporting a hint of the mild annoyance to major psychopathic rage Tony had expected. “While we have grown up together, I would not hesitate to thrust a dagger into his heart if he dared to step close enough.”

 

Shuri nodded along as if he’d said something very wise. “I get that. T’Challa and I argue sometimes, too.”

 

Perhaps Tony should count himself lucky that T’Challa wasn’t there to listen to any of that. Okoye was bad enough: She sat closely next to Shuri – shielding her from Loki – her face an almost comical mask of forced stoicism. 

 

“Alright,” Tony said, capturing the attention of everyone in the room before things could escalate further. “Apologies for the wait, but since I’m here now–”

 

“What a shame,” Loki said, cutting him off. “And I had just found a conversation partner worthy of my attention.”

 

Shuri’s grin made it almost impossible to feel offended. “Right,” Tony said, “I’m sure there’s gonna be plenty of opportunity for you two to… bond.” 

 

If her brother let it happen. Not to mention her guard, who emitted severe overprotective vibes to anyone so much as looking into Shuri’s direction.

 

Tony paused, realizing that Shuri was fiddling with something in her lap. He hadn’t realized he’d left it lying around the penthouse. 

 

“What do you think?” he said, nodding towards the piece of machinery in Shuri’s hands. 

 

It was somewhat of a pet project of Tony’s. Ideally, he’d intended it to serve as replacement for Cap’s shield, after seeing the broken original featured in his nightmares one time too many. He’d wanted to build a version of it that Steve could wear as a bracelet and summon at will – a goal far easier said than achieved.

 

Tony had built the first prototype with the same nano tech he’d used for his suit, but quickly realized that it wouldn’t work for Steve. The shield wouldn’t have bounced in the way he was used to, and instead of protecting him it would have thrown off his fighting style immensely. 

 

The project wasn’t a priority, and Tony had never quite managed to figure out the right composition.

 

Shuri sported a sheepish but unapologetic expression at being caught meddling with his technology. “It’s…” she paused in a way that suggested she was doing her very best to be polite, “cute.”

 

Tony let out a snort. “Cute, huh? I guess I can live with that.”

 

“You are attempting to design a retractable shield, no?” 

 

“In the most basic sense, yeah.”

 

Shuri nodded, tracing the smooth, metallic surface. “Our warriors carry similar devices. It is shielding technology, woven into fabric so one can wear it as a cloak. It is light and flexible enough to not constrict one’s movement, and can activate its shielding when in need of protection.”

 

“Really?” Tony found himself edging closer – as far as his seat would allow him without risking to fall over. “How does it work? Nano tech?”

 

Shuri shook her head. “No nano tech. Well, at least not entirely. It is more of a–”

 

“Princess,” Okoye interrupted, her voice brusque and clipped. “Perhaps Mr. Stark should explain what he came to tell us.”

 

Shuri blinked, but dropped the prototype on the table in front of her without complaint. 

 

It was probably for the better. Tony itched to hear more about Wakandan technology – he’d never really had the time or the resources to do simply that – but Shuri had come dangerously close to spilling Wakandan secrets she was most likely not allowed to share.

 

“Right,” Tony said, swallowing the disappointment lingering in his gut. “Sorry about that.”

 

“Why are we here?” Okoye asked. Her eyes, previously glaring daggers at Tony, swayed to pin down Loki instead. “And whatever it is for, shouldn’t  _ he  _ be taken elsewhere for it?”

 

“As a matter of fact, no. I’m afraid we’ll need him.” Tony paused, considering. “I’ve already given everybody else the long version, so I’ll try to keep it short this time. You’ve heard about the alien invasion a few weeks ago.”

 

“It was somewhat difficult to miss,” Okoye said drily.

 

No surprises there. An alien invasion was an alien invasion, even if it took place on an entirely different continent. “Yeah, well. What the news channels don’t know is that it wasn’t a one time stunt.”

 

Dead silence followed his declaration. Aside from Loki, who looked into the distance with an indiscernible expression, all eyes were fixed on him.

 

It was Shuri who ended up breaking the tension. “Do you mean to say that it might happen again?”

 

“It will,” Tony said, all fun and jokes gone from his voice. “There’s no doubt about it.”

 

“How can you be so sure?” Okoye asked. “We are talking about beings from another world. How could you possibly know what they are planning?” 

 

“Well,” Tony started, trying and failing to come up with a mild way to phrase the following sentence. He gave up after a few beats, opting to get it out quickly instead. “I’m not sure if it came up before, and if it did it might have gotten buried in the general chaos of… well, everything. Anyway, what I meant to say was, and please give me the chance to explain, I can assure you that he doesn’t pose a threat as long as I’m here–”

 

“He’s the one who lead the invasion,” Okoye interrupted in quite possibly the bluntest and least favorable way imaginable. “I remember him from the reports.”

 

Tony found himself considering whether it was a good or a bad thing that T’Challa was not currently present. “Right,” Tony said. “Yeah. Would it help to point out that he’s on our side now? Kind of?”

 

“Why is he here,” Okoye asked, “and not contained in a cell?”

 

“Well. First of all, there’s no place more secure than the tower that houses half a dozen superheroes. Especially if one of them is the Hulk. You know, the one who took out Loki before.” Tony paused, watching with glee as Loki shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Of all the residents of the tower, Bruce was the only one who wasn’t constantly being mocked or provoked by Loki. “Second of all, we need him. He’s the only one capable of giving us information on the enemy.”

 

“Yes. Because he is one of them," Okoye scowled. “Who says he is not scheming against you right this moment?” 

 

“If only you knew how strong the temptation is,” Loki said, as usual making everything worse. "If you must know, I am not exactly in my former master's favor." His expression grew tense. “I cannot go back to him, now that his plan has been foiled.”

 

Tony knew Thanos. He knew that Loki was telling the truth. 

 

It didn’t make him  _ like  _ Loki – Tony doubted he ever would – but with Thanos entering the race, the scales had somewhat shifted. Compared to him, Loki felt much like the weird but ultimately harmless relative that showed up to family gatherings uninvited and who nobody could stand.

 

“I still do not understand why I am here,” Shuri said. “What do I have to do with an alien invasion?”

 

“You’re here to help me stop it,” Tony said. “To help  _ us  _ stop it. For lack of a better option, Loki will be our expert on anything Thanos and magic related.” Since, unfortunately, Strange was proving to be unreasonably stubborn about finally starting his wizard career. If only Tony knew what had lead him down that path, perhaps he would have been able to speed things up. 

 

“I know a thing or two myself about the infinity stones,” Tony continued. “And you’re here as our expert on Vibranium. There’s nothing on Earth more advanced than your Wakandan technology.”

 

“There are many Wakandan scientists,” Okoye pointed out. 

 

“I am still learning,” Shuri agreed. “Why me?”

 

Because she’d already gained Tony’s trust, he couldn’t say. Because she’d almost won them victory once before. “I kind of thought about you and your brother as a package deal,” was what he said out loud. “Besides, young minds tend to come up with the best ideas. Those that nobody else has had before. Ones I could never come up with.” Tony smiles. “Don’t worry. You’ll do brilliantly.”

 

Shuri looked pleased at the admission. Okoye, less so. 

 

“You cannot expect us to believe that is all,” she said. “You have asked us to travel half the world to meet you here. There has to be more.”

 

Tony wanted to sigh. Explaining to her that he’d met Shuri before would mean having to explain about the time travel – something they didn’t have the time for, at the moment. 

 

Not to mention the time it would take him to gain Okoye’s trust. He didn’t know the next thing about her – certainly not anything that would make her believe an outrageous claim as that. 

 

As for his smaller, self-indulgent reason… Tony paused. It wouldn’t be responsible to act on a whim when there was already so much they needed to do. The whole operation was a stretch as it was, he didn’t have the time to indulge himself. 

 

On the other hand, they had already gotten a lot out of the way. Tony was making progress rapidly, so maybe it would be enough. Maybe he could… Yeah, why not? He could afford this much. 

 

Tony would make the time, now that Shuri was already there. 

 

“So, I’ve got this kid,” Tony blurted out before he could second guess himself. “I think he and Shuri would get along splendidly.”

 

* * *

 

May shrugged off her jacket on her way into the apartment, trying to ignore the ache of a double shift in her feet. With her colleague calling in sick and another on vacation with his family, she’d been the first person in line to help out. Typical. 

 

She sighed, cursing her chronically understaffed hospital and the people in charge who couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it.

 

“Peter!” she called, dropping her bag on the couch and herself beside it. “I’m home!”

 

A distracted mumble of "Yes, Aunt May" was her answer, in between muffled – but no less obnoxious – beeps and crashing noises that made May reconsider her decision to gift her nephew with a small gaming console for his birthday. 

 

May had just started to consider her dinner options – take-out or instant meal? Perhaps she could call Ben and ask him to bring something on his way back from work – when the phone started to ring and made her suppress a groan.

 

She didn’t recognize the number on the display.

 

"May Parker, who's speaking?"

 

There were some muffled noises on the other end, but no answer.

 

"Hello?" May said, a frown on her face. "This is May. Is there–”

 

"Hello, Mrs. Parker!" The voice sounded male, out-of breath and oddly familiar. "So sorry. I was elsewhere, I've been trying to reach you for a while."

 

They'd taught Peter not to answer the phone when he was alone in the apartment. Good to know that their nephew actually listened to them.

 

"I was at the hospital," she said, somewhat curtly. "Who is this?"

 

"Right. Yeah, I could have thought of that," the man muttered. "Anyway! May Parker, such a pleasure to meet you. Well, kind of. I would have contacted you in person, but... well, this was easier. And less likely to end in ridiculous tabloid rumors."

 

May blinked. She took down the phone, looked at the screen, and didn't recognize the number any more than she had the first time around.

 

"Mrs. Parker?"

 

"Who are you?" May demanded. She was far too tired to be playing guessing games. 

 

“Yeah, about that. I know that what I’m about to say will sound a bit weird, but I assure you that I'm not crazy and I'm telling you the truth. In retrospect, maybe I should have come in person, after all. Or maybe not. I wasn’t kidding about the tabloids.”

 

May contemplated hanging up the call and calling it a day.

 

"Anyway, long story short: You're speaking with Tony Stark – yes, that Tony Stark. Billionaire, inventor, part time superhero, you know the gist." The noise of him clearing his throat filtered through the phone line. "Anyway, this isn't about me. I'm thrilled to inform you that your nephew has been given an internship at Stark Industries!"

 

May blinked. She wouldn’t have known what to say, even if she’d been given the chance. The man who couldn't possibly be Tony Stark simply kept going.

 

"His achievements in school have impressed us greatly, and we will be ecstatic to welcome him–”

 

"He's ten," May interrupted. A pregnant silence followed.

 

"Yes," Stark –  _ Tony  _ Stark. Seriously? May was half convinced she'd fallen into an exhaustion-induced fever dream and was imagining everything – said, catching himself after losing his momentum. "Yes, of course. It's a, um... junior internship?"

 

May didn't dignify that statement with a response.

 

"... Science camp?"

 

"Science camp," May repeated, her dry tone making it impossible to ignore how ridiculous the words sounded.

 

Stark seemed to realize this, as there was uneasy shuffling and a drawn out “uhh” on the other line.

 

"So, have you been personally phoning every single kid you're inviting to this... science camp, Mr. Stark?"

 

"... Yes. There are obviously going to be other children. Because I know what I'm doing and I clearly thought this through."

 

By now, May was convinced she'd fallen into the twilight zone on her way home from work. If this was a prank call, it was a very, very good one. Stark's voice sounded exactly like it did on the TV – perhaps without the over the top showman quality to it. 

 

"Okay, so there's... going to be a princess. She's ten too, I think. Somewhere in that age range."

 

May let the stony silence speak for itself. 

 

"... One second. Hey, kid! Can you come– Woah, careful there! Don't touch that!" 

 

A clatter and some frantic shuffling followed. At this point, May was pretty much staying on the line out of morbid curiosity. 

 

Stark's voice returned sounding muffled and distant like he'd stepped away from the phone. "–can't just take apart other people's tech. At least ask first." He didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Kid, I could use your–” 

 

Stark broke off in the middle of his sentence as someone interrupted him. May couldn't make it out, but it didn't sound like it came from a child.

 

"My apologies," Stark said. "I meant to say, your Royal Highness Princess Shuri. Of Wakanda."

 

A giggle, bright and childish. "Okoye doesn't like you."

 

"I don't think she likes anyone in this tower," Stark grumbled. "Besides you. Obviously."

 

May decided she'd been excluded from the conversation for long enough. "Mr. Stark–”

 

"Who's that?" the child – the girl? The  _ princess _ ? – asked. She spoke with a thick, foreign accent May couldn't place.

 

"That's Mrs. Parker. She's the kid's aunt. The one I told you about? Please help me convince her that I'm not trying to kidnap her nephew or something."

 

"Mr. Stark is not trying to kidnap your nephew or something," Shuri parroted cheerfully. "Are you going to let us into your lab? JARVIS told me about your other AIs!"

 

May was fairly certain that the second part had not been meant for her. 

 

"My lab, huh?" There was a pause. "Why not. But only," Stark raised his voice over the excited cheer his words had prompted, "only when I'm there, too. I'm not letting you play around with explosives. Not on your own."

 

"Why? Do you think I don't know how to handle them?"

 

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

 

May waited, then cleared her throat to show that she was, in fact, still on the line. 

 

"Right! Okay. So, that was Shuri. She's Peter's age – you're ten, right?"

 

"You are so bad at this," Shuri replied.

 

"Oh, shush. Go talk some more with JARVIS. Or even better, convince Okoye to stop glaring at me like she’s planning my violent murder.”

 

"Good luck," Shuri said, and May couldn't tell from her voice alone whether she was saying it with a grin or throwing Stark a sympathetic glance.

 

There was silence that neither May nor Stark tried to breach.

 

"So," Stark said eventually, drawing out the word. "Just to throw it in, how are my chances of this actually succeeding?"

 

"..."

 

There was a sigh. "Okay, look. I'm sorry, I clearly didn't think this through." 

 

"You could have fooled me," May said drily.

 

"I realize that this isn't the best of first impressions–”

 

May had to suppress a scoff.

 

"–but I swear that I have nothing but the best of intentions. Not just for Peter, but for... uh... kids. Smart kids. Like him."

 

May waited. Then, when nothing else followed, she said, "Is that all, Mr. Stark?"

 

"... Look, I'll send you a letter, okay? A proper invitation. With the details, and my contact information." His voice dropped down into a mutter. "Should have done that in the first place." 

 

"I don't think–”

 

"You can expect it by tomorrow. It'll look marvelous for college applications, a great opportunity for–”

 

May did what she should have done minutes ago. She hung up the call.

 

* * *

 

To her utter surprise, that was not the last May would hear from Tony Stark. In fact, she only had to wait a single day to find the promised letter lying on their doormat.

 

She picked up the envelope warily, noting with bemusement the glossy quality of the paper. Stark must have gone all out with it: May caught herself hesitating to even touch the fancy (very, incredibly fancy) looking sheet of paper. Were those letters embossed?!

 

A block of contact information was printed below the bold statement of:

 

**Invitation to Tony Stark's super awesome science camp for genius children.**

 

Besides the invitation, the envelope contained a short, messily written note.

 

_ See? Told you I could do it properly. -TS _

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	10. Chapter 10

May made the mistake of leaving the letter on the kitchen table in her hurry to make it in time for her next shift. She didn't think about it again during work, and by the time she returned, hours later, she wasn't thinking about anything other than putting up her feet and drinking a last cup of tea before falling into bed.

 

She was welcomed into their apartment by the excited chattering of her nephew.

 

"–is so cool! I can't believe this is happening!"

 

Oh no. Oh please, no.

 

"Way to go, buddy!" Ben said. 

 

"I'm going to visit Stark Tower! I'm going to meet Iron Man! Do you think the Avengers will be there? Do you think–”

 

"Calm down." Ben laughed. He leaned forward to ruffle Peter's hair. "I wouldn't hold out to meet the Avengers, if I were you. Or Mr. Stark, for that matter. I'm sure they're busy people."

 

"I know," Peter said, his ecstatic smile dimming but not fading. It lit back up the second his eyes fell on May. "Aunt May! Guess what! I'm going to go to Stark Tower!"

 

"Are you now," May replied faintly, doing her very best to keep her voice steady.

 

"He's gotten an invitation from Tony Stark himself," Ben said, waving around the cursed letter with a proud beam. "I think it's like a summer camp."

 

"Ben," May said, trying not to sound too frantic, "a word–“

 

"Do you think there'll be many other kids?" Peter asked. "Do you think they'll let us see the Avengers' equipment? Oh! Aunt May! Guess what! Ned's coming too!"

 

May blinked. "Ned?"

 

"We just got off the phone," Ben explained, still that ecstatic smile on his face. "Apparently he's gotten an invitation, too. What are the chances?"

 

What were the chances, indeed. 

 

In the end, May didn’t exactly have much of a choice. Since she hadn't found the time to tell Ben about the bizarre phone call, the invitation seemed nothing but legitimate to him. He didn’t have a care in the world, and, if anything, was just as thrilled as Peter was about the opportunity.

 

It didn't help that Peter had idolized Stark ever since Iron Man had saved him at the last Stark Expo.

 

May waited until the next time she had the apartment to herself to make another phone call. Stark picked up after two rings. 

 

"Alright, listen up,” May said, not giving Stark the chance to utter even a single word. “Peter saw the letter, and he's ecstatic to come to Stark Tower. I don't want to ruin that. But if this is going to happen, we'll have to lay out some ground rules."

 

For once, Stark did not respond with a joke or sarcastic quip. Just a simple, "Sure. I'm listening."

 

The following conversation made May feel uncomfortably like the kind of helicopter parent she knew back from Peter's elementary school, the sort she had always despised. In utter reluctance, May found that she could suddenly sympathize.

 

Besides strict guidelines about when and how long Peter was allowed to visit, May also insisted on visiting the Tower on her own, first. She also insisted on hourly phone calls that would let her know that everything was alright. 

 

To her utter surprise, Stark didn't protest any of her demands. She found a brand new tablet in the mail on that very same day, alongside a note inviting her to video phone the Tower whenever she liked.

 

May did not hesitate to take him up on the offer. Frequently and extensively. 

 

"Aunt May! Aunt May! Guess what!" Peter’s excited voice assaulted her ears before May had even the chance to greet him. 

 

Something that sounded suspiciously like an explosion went off in the background, and May's grip around the tablet tightened. "Peter. What was that?"

 

"Huh?" Peter looked over his shoulder, at something out of May's field of vision. "Oh, don't worry about it. That was just Mr. Loki trying to freak out Mr. Stark. I actually wanted to tell you about–”

 

"With explosions?" May interrupted. Then, as her brain caught up with Peter's words, "Wait,  _ who  _ tried to freak out Mr. Stark?"

 

"They're not real explosions, they're just magic, but I actually–”

 

"Magic?!" 

 

"Yes, but listen! Me and Ned made a new friend." 

 

"A new friend," May repeated faintly, making a mental note to make Stark clarify just what exactly was happening at that "science camp" of his. “You mean the girl? Shuri?”

 

Ben poked his head into the living room with a curious expression, and May waved him off. 

 

“No, we already know Shuri. She’s been here even longer than we have. We met her brother, too. He’s a king  _ and _ a superhero!”

 

“I see.” May honestly, genuinely didn’t. At all.

 

“Anyway, we made another friend. He arrived just today. His name’s Harley, and Mr. Stark invited him, too.”

 

"Hello Mrs. Parker!" A brown-haired boy who looked roughly Peter's age appeared on the screen, his cheeks flushed red from excitement. "Peter told me you live in New York. That's so cool, it takes ages to fly in all the way from Tennessee. I'm probably not gonna come all the time, which kind of sucks, but Mr. Stark said I could get a StarkPad and still talk to Peter and Ned and Shuri, isn't that cool?"

 

May blinked, rapidly filtering through the flood of information she'd gotten. "It's nice to meet you, um... Harley." She paused. "You've flown in from  _ where _ ?"

 

"Oh yeah, Mr. Stark sent his private jet," Harley said like that was something a random billionaire just did. 

 

"How nice of him.” May hoped that the clipped quality of her voice did not register for her teen-aged audience. 

 

"It took him three weeks to convince my mom to say yes," Harley added. 

 

May wasn't sure whether or not she should find solace in the fact that Stark would have most likely worn her down eventually, had she not agreed to his terms when she had.

 

"Speaking of Mr. Stark," she said, hoping to ban most of her animosity towards the man out of her voice, "where exactly is he?" If she caught him neglecting her nephew and his friends, no amount of puppy-eyes and begging would stop her from putting an end to the whole thing. “And where’s Ned?”

 

“I’m here, Mrs. Parker!” Ned poked his head into the frame and waved. “We’ve got autographs of  _ all _ of the Avengers. Isn’t that amazing?!” 

 

“Thor showed us his hammer.”

 

“And his lighting.”

 

“Is that why there’s scorch marks on the coffee table?” Harley asked. “I can’t believe I missed that!”

 

May felt a muscle below her eye twitch. “Where did you say Stark was, dear?” 

 

Peter took a breath to answer. He didn’t end up needing to.

 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Stark’s voice piped up in the background. “Woah, who brought DUM-E out of the workshop?”

 

A formal, British-sounding voice answered him. “Nobody, Sir. DUM-E has heard you talking about our guests. He felt left out, and decided to come out of the workshop on his own.” His voice took on a half amused, half proud quality. “He has managed to operate the elevator all by himself, Sir.”

 

May heard some sort of mechanic whir.

 

"Is that a robot?" May recognized the voice as the little girl who had been at the tower when Stark had called. Shuri.

 

"You've got a robot here?" Peter joined in. 

 

Stark ignored both of the children in order to sigh. "Okay, fine. Glad to have you here, buddy. Where's U?"

 

"I believe the appropriate term would be 'sulking', Sir."

 

Stark let out an exasperated huff. "Of course he is. Whatever. Tell him he's more than welcome to join us as soon as he's finished his little tantrum."

 

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark! Can I say hello to the robot, please please please?" Peter rushed out of the frame and knocked over the tablet. 

 

His new friend – Harley, was it? – was hot on his tails. "Hey, wait for me! Did you say his name was Dummy?"

 

May kept the call connected for several more minutes, despite not being able to see anything other than the ceiling. She could make out a square shaped dent and what looked like a kitchen knife embedded in it.

 

“How are they doing?” Ben entered the living room from the kitchen, dropping down beside her with a smile.

 

May wasn’t actually sure how to answer the question. “... I think Peter and Ned befriended African royalty.” 

 

Ben blinked. 

 

May wasn’t done. “They also met the Avengers. Thor almost destroyed the living room with his lightning. There’s robots running around the whole place and I think they might have met the psychopath who tried to invade New York a few weeks ago.”

 

Ben blinked, again. Then he laughed, deeply and genuine. “Those boys have a wonderful imagination. Sounds like they’re having fun.” He squeezed May’s shoulder and reached for the newspaper lying on the table. 

 

May let her head drop down on the back rest of their sofa, mentally cursing Stark with the sort of language that would have gotten Peter grounded. That man was going to be the death of her.

 

* * *

 

May kept letting Peter go to the Tower only because he had yet to return with so much as a scratch. His enthusiasm didn’t waver, he brought gadgets and trinkets with him whenever he came home (most of which, according to Peter, he helped build himself) and told stories more and more outrageous each and every time. 

 

Stark somehow managed not to sink his reputation further by religiously making sure to hold his agreement about the daily video calls. 

 

May found comfort in the knowledge that ever since losing his parents, she had rarely seen Peter as happy as he was now. 

 

* * *

 

Contrary to popular belief, Loki did not hate all people equally. He hated stupid people, as well as those that were below him and thought otherwise. He also did not care for his so called "family". But he did not loathe all people in equal measure.

 

For instance, Loki had found that he tolerated children to a surprising degree. Children were blatant and honest. Not to be cruel, but because they didn't know how not to be. They were full of childish naivety, easily excitable and did not care to hide their true desires and intentions. 

 

In many ways, interacting with them was far more pleasant (not to mention refreshing) than treading the delicate line of manipulation and ulterior motives when talking to an adult. 

 

Besides, children were so easily entertained by the simplest things. 

 

"Do it again," the princess all but commanded, using a tone of voice Loki wouldn't have tolerated coming from anyone outside of her age range.

 

"Your wish is my command." His deep bow and mocking grin succeeded in making the children laugh. Their laughter soon turned into cheers as Loki conjured animal shapes into thin air – not Midgardian ones, but creatures found in all sorts of realms. 

 

The spell itself was barely more than a party trick, one that Loki had mastered with only a few centuries of age. It did not matter in the face of his audience's enthusiasm. Loki's mouth twitched into a smile. Yes, this was the reason he preferred the company of children. What would have been met with scorn and suspicion from others was a simple delight to them.

 

"How are you doing that?" Shuri asked, a bright grin on her face and a gleam in her eyes. "How does it work?"

 

"Magic." Loki didn't try to hide the twinkle in his eyes.

 

"Yes, but how–”

 

"It would be far too complicated to understand for your simple, human mind." What? Loki liked children. It didn't mean he was going to pamper them.

 

Shuri looked ready to start an argument with him. One of the boys – Ned – interrupted. "Can all aliens do magic?"

 

Loki twitched at the clumsily used term. "Most can use it to some degree. Only few choose to master the art in its entirety."

 

"Are you kidding?!" Peter hopped up and down on the sofa. "If I had magic I would use it for  _ everything _ ."

 

"Dude," Ned said, "we could join the Avengers–”

 

"–fight crime and save people! We'd be so cool!"

 

Shuri let out a huff. "You don't need magic to do those things."

 

"Hey, so, Mr. Loki, Sir." The newest – and last – of the children, Harley, had resurfaced from whatever he'd been busy doing with his puny, Midgardian communication device. "I was looking you up on the internet–”

 

"The 'internet'?" Loki repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

 

"It's like this giant network you can access no matter where you are. You can look up information, talk to other people–”

 

"Watch cat videos," Ned enthusiastically added.

 

"–all sorts of stuff," Harley finished. "Anyway, so I've been looking you up, and–”

 

"Beg your pardon?" Loki's brows knit into a frown. "This internet of yours stores information on me? On Asgard?"

 

"Well, yeah. You know, Norse Mythology and all that."

 

Right. It wasn't that Loki had forgotten about the time Asgard’s people had been named gods by the Midgardians' primitive ancestors. He simply hadn't thought that they would keep archives about them, much less some that included Loki.

 

"Is that so?" 

 

"Yeah, but I don't know how much of it is true," Harley said. "Some of the stuff sounds really far fetched."

 

"Oh yeah?" Peter craned his neck to take a look at Harley's phone. "Like what?"

 

Shuri was not far behind. "Who's that supposed to be?"

 

"Loki. That's why I said it was weird."

 

"Why's he  _ blue _ ?"

 

Loki felt his thoughts screeching to a halt. Across the room, Banner looked up from the paper he'd been reading, pinning Loki with an alarmed glance. 

 

"Give me that," he snapped, all but tearing the device out of the child's hand. Sure enough, the display showed a grotesque – but unambiguous – depiction of Loki in his Jotunn form. How was that possible?

 

"Can you actually do that?" Ned asked. 

 

Harley seemed interested in a permanent visit to the land of the dead, because he added, "Can you show us?"

 

Loki tried to think through the insistent ringing in his ears. A muscle below his eye twitched. Banner sent him a warning glance and muttered, "Loki..."

 

It was the children's curiosity – genuine interest, rather than wariness – that settled the matter for Loki. 

 

Hesitant, and with reluctance burning in his gut, Loki made his body shift, revealing dark blue skin and carved runes. Loki suppressed the urge to cover it up again immediately. 

 

The children's awed silence didn't last for long. "Woah," Shuri said. "Can all white people do that?"

 

Loki blinked. "I– What–”

 

"How does your skin do that? Are you cold? I read on the internet that your kind turns blue when you're cold."

 

"What could you possibly know about my kind?!" Loki scowled, irritation sparking behind his eyes. He retracted all of the pleasant opinions he'd had about the children minutes ago. 

 

"I think Shuri means humans," Ned said. "You know. White people."

 

The statement actually left Loki speechless. "... No. No, this is not something that humans can do. I had thought we'd already established that I am not, in fact, human."

 

"It says you're a frost giant," Harley said, his eyes pinned back on his device. "That's different from Thor, isn't it?"

 

Loki ignored the statement. He shifted back into his Aesir form and ignored Banner's curious glance. "What else does it say?"

 

What followed was truly...  _ enlightening  _ – and more than a little humiliating – lesson in Norse mythology.

 

“So you’re saying you  _ don’t  _ have a kid who’s a giant snake?”

 

“ _ No. _ Obviously not.”

 

“Or a horse with eight legs?”

 

“No, that’s my father’s battle–”

 

“Or a wolf?”

 

“Or the goddess of death?”

 

Loki felt the twitching below his eyes grow rapidly. “We do not even have a goddess of death. There is no such thing.”

 

The children had just opened their mouths – Loki wasn’t sure whether to dread what would come next – when Banner’s voice cut through the room. It had an urgency to it that made Loki pause.

  
“JARVIS, turn that up.”

 

A news report flickered up in the middle of the living room, showing shaky, far range footage of a battered space vessel about to crash in the middle of a park. 

 

“ _ – witness reports have not confirmed alien sightings beyond the one captured on the displayed footage. We’re asking: Has the New York invasion been only the beginning?” _

 

Banner rose, taking a step towards Loki and piercing him with an emotionless stare. “Is that one of yours?”

 

Loki held up his hands and resisted the urge to take a step backwards. He pretended like he wasn’t checking Banner’s skin for any sign of discoloration. “I assure you that it is not.”

 

“You’re not planning anything that could count for another attempt at world domination?”

 

“Not currently, no.”

 

Banner kept pinning him under his gaze. Loki glared back.

 

Finally, Banner turned away. “JARVIS. I hope you already notified the others.”

 

“Naturally, Doctor Banner.”

 

“Good. Tell them I’m on my way. And you,” he threw another glance at Loki, already halfway through the doorway. “Don’t do anything. JARVIS has his eyes on you and knows what to do in an emergency.” 

 

“Who do you take me for?” Loki said, too late. Banner had already left.

 

Loki and the children turned back to the news report. It showed the military on its way to the approximated crash site, as well as assumptions which of the Avengers would arrive, first. 

 

“JARVIS,” Loki said, leaning back on the couch with a pleased grin. “If you could, please make the screen larger.” At once, the holographic screen grew to the size it had during one of the Avengers’ ‘movie nights’. 

 

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Harley piped up with a, “Hey JARVIS. Do you guys have any popcorn here?”

 

Loki had to admit that this was far preferable to the front lines of the conflict. Without speaking it out loud – he doubted that it would find appreciation from the children – Loki made a mental ranking list of which of the Avengers he’d most like to see pummeled into the ground by whichever enemy was about to set foot on Midgard.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening, guys :P
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen


	11. Chapter 11

It was on his way to the approximated crash site and feeling more stressed than he had during the entire last few weeks combined that Tony appreciated for the first time just how pleasant of a breeze his trip to the past had been up until this point.

 

"JARVIS," he said, his voice clipped from tension, "try to hold off the Avengers for now. Pretend like you weren’t able to reach them, manipulate the jet, I don’t care. Just try to slow them down. Hold off the military and establish a parameter with the Iron Legion. I need to go in alone and I need to stay alone for as long as you can manage."

 

"Acknowledged. Sir, are you certain–”

 

"I'll be fine." Tony had almost reached their destination. A quick glance at the space craft, its velocity and its estimated angle of impact told him that it was damaged but under control. Nebula would be shaken, but she'd live.

 

JARVIS’ voice filled his helmet, clinically and professionally. “Impact of the vessel in 5… 4.... 3…”

 

Tony fired up his repulsors and braced himself. Despite JARVIS thoughtfully blocking the audio input of his armor, Tony winced at the impact. It didn't matter how big of a parameter his Legion was establishing; half of Manhattan must have heard.

 

The spaceship hadn't yet come to a halt (leaving a deep furrow in the grass behind it) when its opening hatch was flung into Tony's general direction.

 

"Sir, are you quite sure that–”

 

"I am." Tony felt his mouth twitch into a smile. A regular interface would not have repeated the question after Tony had already answered it. He loved it when JARVIS – or any of his AI – acted independent of their initial programming. "Thanks for looking out for me, buddy. But I know what I’m doing.”

 

The crash hadn't happened the first time around. There was only one other person capable of smashing their way through the path the universe had laid out for them more violently than a sledgehammer.

 

Tony landed his armor in front of the ship right before a figure jumped out of it, cursing as she stumbled on her way out – which wasn't surprising, seeing as she dragged one of her stiff, motionless limbs behind her.

 

Never before had seeing Nebula’s moody scowl made Tony quite this happy. "Stark," she growled instead of a proper greeting.

 

"Nebs," Tony said, just to make a point. One didn't survive the slaughtering of half of the universe, drift together in empty space for days and plunge back in time in a desperate attempt to save the world without reaching first name basis.

 

Nebula didn't protest beyond darkening her scowl.

 

"So. You look..." Tony swept Nebula over with one glance. "Beaten up. Who'd you pick a fight with?" It couldn't have been Thanos. Surely, it couldn’t have. Knowledge of the future or not, Nebula would not have lived to tell the tale.

 

Tony expected an angry snap of an answer. Perhaps even defensiveness. He didn't, however, expect her to screw together her brows and hesitate in a motion that looked suspiciously sheepish.

 

"You will have to be more specific."

 

Tony blinked and attempted to process that response. "Please don't tell me you’ve made even more enemies than we had Before."

 

"None that lived to see another day." Nebula's eyes glinted with thinly veiled maliciousness.

 

“So we’ve both been productive,” Tony said. “Nice. You didn’t by any chance get your hands on an infinity stone or two, did you?”

 

“The soul stone is destroyed. As for power…” Nebula trailed off, raising her cybernetic arm and making it brim with purple, familiar looking energy.

 

Tony’s eyes widened, questions rapidly forming on his tongue and threatening to make him forget the urgency of their current situation.

 

"Is this… Terra?"

 

Tony's head perked up at the new voice, and he forced himself to store away his curiosity for later. He’d have more than enough time to pester Nebula for answers once they had safely arrived at the tower.

 

He recognized one of their allies from Titan – the girl from the Guardians, Mantis, was it? – hesitantly climbing out after Nebula.

 

"Nice to meet you," Tony said, giving a little wave. "I'm Tony." He turned back to Nebula and raised an eyebrow. "Is that why it took you so long to show up? I was almost worried you'd have all the fun without me."

 

"I had to obliterate a sentient planet and the vermin that was its creator," Nebula deadpanned, her expression almost daring Tony to speak against her. "Mantis is one of us now."

 

The corner of Tony's mouth tugged up in a grin. "You could have just said that you had to pick up a friend."

 

Nebula let out a growl.

 

Next to her, Mantis' eyes widened. "A... friend?" She stole a glance at Nebula. "We are friends?"

 

Nebula didn't get the chance to answer before JARVIS intercepted the conversation.

 

“Sir. If you would direct your attention to the sky.”

 

Tony did as he was told. And stared. "... Nebula. Why is there a second spaceship charging directly towards us?"

 

"It's fine." Nebula didn't spare the ship a single glance, despite it nearing the earth at an alarming speed. "She's on our side."

 

Tony didn’t feel reassured in the slightest. "Who's ‘she’?"

 

"Sir. All three of you are currently in the path of the space vessel and will be crushed if you do not move."

 

Tony blinked. "Right. Yeah. Okay, let's–”

 

Nebula didn't wait for him to finish. She grabbed Mantis with one arm and held onto Tony's armor with the other, evidently deciding that her defective leg was not suited for a quick, efficient get-away, much less one that required her carrying another person with her.

 

The repulsors of his armor roared to life and launched them into the air. Tony set them down once his calculations told him it would be safe to land.

 

This time, the ship hadn't even touched the ground before someone flung themselves out of it and straight at Nebula. Someone very green, very ferociously scowling.

 

In his bemusement Tony forgot to do anything about it and watched the mystery person tackle Nebula to the ground with a gleam of her drawn swords.

 

"That's it, Nebula!" she (because at second glance Nebula's attacker was definitely female) snarled, pressing her weapons to Nebula's throat in such an obviously hostile way, Tony felt somewhat embarrassed he had yet to so much as raise his repulsors. "You won't get another chance. And neither will Thanos."

 

In Tony's defense, Nebula didn't look particularly alarmed by the insanely sharp looking blade millimeters away from cutting her artery.

 

The green lady hadn't looked up once. Tony would be surprised if she'd even registered Tony's and Mantis' presence, seeing as she looked completely invested in her righteous monologue that could have come straight out of a bad action flick.

 

"Give up now, or I won't hesitate to end your life. Just like I will end Thanos."

 

"It's fine, Gamora," Nebula said like her life was not currently being threatened. "He's on our side."

 

Gamora bristled at the implication. "We are not on the same side!" Her glare swung upwards and landed on Tony. "And if he is an ally of yours, that means his days are numbered like yours are."

 

"What the– Nebula, is that your sister?!" That had been her name, hadn't it? Gamora, Thanos' favorite daughter. Nebula's sister who had been one of the first to die. If there was one person Nebula had grieved, it had been her.

 

If anything, Gamora's glare grew more scathing. "Don't think I will hesitate to stop you from destroying the universe, only because Thanos decided to call us sisters. It means nothing."

 

"Um," Tony said, at a total loss what to do. Should he power up his repulsors? Try to talk it out? Do nothing and see what would happen?

 

"It's fine," Nebula repeated, attempting to push more meaning into the word. "You can stop pretending. Stark knows everything."

 

Tony rather felt like he was completely lost. Gamora looked the same, although her confusion was somewhat covered by her anger.

 

Without waiting for an answer – and still completely ignoring the blade cutting into her flesh – Nebula glared at her sister. "While I appreciate your dedication to realism, was it so difficult to only pretend to shoot at me?! I am fairly sure it would have been convincing enough without destroying my engine."

 

Tony kept his eyes fixed on Gamora, who looked more perplexed with every word that Nebula uttered. "Um. Nebs–”

 

"'Nebs'?!" Gamora stared in disbelief.

 

"– I don't think your sister is pretending."

 

"Don't be absurd. Of course she is." Nebula looked up to Gamora. "Tell him, Sister."

 

There was a beat of silence. Then Gamora growled. "I don't know what exactly your plan is, Nebula, but your tricks will not work."

 

Nebula gaped in stunned silence. "You don't know?!"

 

Disbelieving eyes found Tony's – perhaps in the misguided hope that he would tell her this wasn't genuinely happening. Tony gave a helpless shrug in response.

 

"You don't _know?!"_ She repeated, the volume of her voice rising. "About... about anything?!"

 

"I know enough,” Gamora protested, offended at the implication.

 

Tony didn't know if he should laugh or cry at how badly Gamora genuinely, truly didn't understand what was going on. At all. Nebula wasn't helping, seeing as rather than doing some explaining, she was preoccupied with reliving all the frustrating, now useless weeks she had spent in the assumption that she and her sister had been on the same page.

 

Or at least that was Tony's guess, going by what he could filter out of her furious rambling. What _little_ he could filter out, seeing as Gamora was snarking right back at her.

 

"– nothing better to do than attempting to foil my plans and hunting me! What were you even trying to accomplish?!"

 

"– kidding me?! As if I'd let you help Thanos destroy the universe! You should know me better than to assume I'd stand by watching–”

 

"Apparently I haven't known you at all, seeing as I didn't think my sister was dense enough to–”

 

"Did you just call me stupid?! You're the one who–”

 

"Um," Tony said, "Ladies?"

 

"You owe me a new engine. And also a new limb." As if to prove her point, Nebula's leg sparked furiously.

 

"You almost killed us!" Gamora yelled. "Several times!"

 

"Oh please." Any person other than Nebula would have rolled their eyes. "I did nothing I didn't know you were capable of surviving."

 

"Nebula," Tony tried, his glance flickering to the data his HUD displayed. If he'd learned one thing during his career as a superhero, it was that red flashing lights almost always meant bad news. “I think we need to–”

 

"Thanks for that," Gamora drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so lucky, knowing that my sister looks out for me."

 

"You're welcome," Nebula snapped, either not noticing or not caring about the sarcasm. "Perhaps I should have just let Ego–”

 

"Guys!" Tony took a deliberate step forwards to draw both of the sisters’ attention towards him – and regretted it almost immediately. Now two pairs of similarly intense murderous glares were directed on him. Oh joy. "We need to go elsewhere. Like, right now. We'll have company soon."

 

Gamora glared some more. "Who even are you?! What is your connection to my sister?!"

 

"It does not concern you with whom I associate and for what reason–”

 

"Look, I'll give you the short version," Tony interrupted before Nebula could set off another bout of sisterly squabble.

 

"Firstly, your sister isn't working for Thanos anymore. She hasn't for a while."

 

"Which you would know, if you were capable of even half the–”

 

"Secondly," Tony continued, raising his voice so he could talk over Nebula, "she's collecting the infinity stones to destroy them, not to give them to Thanos. She's already gotten rid of one."

 

Gamora's frown faltered ever so slightly. "But– That's not–”

 

"So, seeing as we're all on the same side here, perhaps we could postpone the explanations for when the American government isn't about to burst in on us and break up the party. Alright?"

 

"What– No! Nothing is alright!" Gamora's scowl deepened back into something dark and ugly. "Who even are you?"

 

"Oh yeah. I'm Tony. Nice to meet you. I'm Nebula's human friend."

 

Gamora's face went blank. "Human? But how–” Her eyes widened comically in shock. "Did you say _friend?!_ ”

 

"We are not." Nebula avoided Tony's glance. A muscle in her cheek twitched suspiciously.  "We are passing acquaintances at best."

 

"You made a friend," Gamora said, looking right through her sister. _"You?"_

 

"Friends," Mantis parroted, her face lighting up in a heartbreakingly eager way as she carefully pronounced the word. "Just like we are?"

 

A notification popped up, letting Tony know that his parameter had been breached by a military tank. "We'll talk later," he decided. Both Nebula's and Gamora's mouth opened in protest, and he added, "Unless you're in the mood to fight the military that will arrive in roughly five minutes. Not to mention my superpowered friends who won't be far behind."

 

"We could take them," Nebula said.

 

"Or," Tony countered, pushing down the exasperation that went with spending any amount of time with Nebula, "we could spare us the hassle by making a run for it. Right now."

 

Nebula and Gamora shared a glance. By some miracle, instead of making another argument spark up, Nebula turned away with an annoyed huff. "Fine."

 

Gamora hesitated, then nodded. "I will get my crew."

 

So the Guardians had come, after all. "Didn't they plan to, you know," Tony made a vague gesture, already regretting bringing it up, "lend you a hand?"

 

Gamora rolled her eyes. "They were whining about coming here the entire way. I told them they could wait inside of the ship."

 

"Typical," Nebula muttered.

 

At once, Gamora's eyes flared up in fury. "I will let you know that they would have stood by my side the second I needed them." She let out a huff. "You I can handle."

 

Tony stopped listening to whatever it was Nebula threw back at her sister and heaved a sigh. At this rate it would be miracle if his day didn't end in having to bust about half a dozen alien invaders and himself out of some sort of high security cell.

 

"May I say that you are handling the situation admirably," JARVIS said quietly into his ear. "I truly do not know why I was concerned."

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel down after watching Endgame? Feel free to head [over here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18693325/chapters/44333392) Maybe it'll manage to cheer you up :P (Movie spoilers ahead!)
> 
> My wonderful betas are **To Mockingbird** , **PyrothTenka** and **Igornerd**! 
> 
> Visit me [on tumblr](http://xxgwenstacyxx.tumblr.com) if you like!  
> ~Gwen

**Author's Note:**

> Now available as [podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693630/chapters/41735375)! Thank you so much, [1PB2PB3PB4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1PB2PB3PB4/pseuds/1PB2PB3PB4)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Been There, Blown That Up (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693630) by [1PB2PB3PB4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1PB2PB3PB4/pseuds/1PB2PB3PB4)




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